


Searching for Fabio

by SireneNomdePlume



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry Potter, Gay sexytimes, I won't spoil the other pairing but one chapter will focus on it, M/M, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slightly naive and befuddled Harry, Steamy dirty smut in later chapters, Surprise Pairing, pretty cracky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-01-07 23:16:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12242547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SireneNomdePlume/pseuds/SireneNomdePlume
Summary: When Harry stumbles across a strange trashy romance book in the Restricted Section called Steamed Seduction, he's shocked to find that he's on the cover, along with a faceless, non-descriptive man. Now all of the men (even the straight ones) of Hogwarts are vying for his attention, and Harry has to find who the man on the cover is to stop so many advances...especially from an annoyingly persistent Draco Malfoy, all while he's just starting to come to terms with his sexuality. Some men are not susceptible; a few other friends (thank goodness,) and the teachers, including a fully recovered Great Greasy Git (another blessing). Is the book cursed? Is it dark magic...or something else?





	1. A Real Page Turner

"Stupid bloody exams."

Harry sighed and ruffled his hair. Madame Pince was at her desk yelling at a few second years who were causing too much ruckus over a game of Wizard's Chess. "No tomfoolery in this library!" she screeched, and Harry had half a mind to cover his ears. He winced and bent his head down. Even Hermione had the left the library for Prefect duty; she was a bossy Prefect once again now that they were back, which left Harry alone in the library, bored to tears and wishing he was by the Great Lake or even at Hagrid's eating stale cakes as tough as stones, at least. Then again, if he left the library it would mean running into Ginny, and honestly, he didn't want to come face to face with her just yet. He broke it off first, she wasn't exactly happy about it and ran back to Dean. 

Harry didn't have the heart to tell Ginny that he finally came to terms with the fact that he'd rather be throwing Dean's ankles up in the air than hers.

A loud _thump_ came from deeper in the library. Harry jolted; it was just habit now after the War. He glanced discreetly at Pince, who was still demeaning the second years. The noise came from the Restricted Section.

Well, it wouldn't be much of a fuss to go and see what fell. Harry was simply too stubborn and curious to resist. He scooted his chair back and snuck through the aisle to where he first heard the sound.

Hmm. A book lay on its cover, the shiny red paperback devoid of script. He bent down to pick it up and look at the cover. He choked. 

It was _himself._ It was Harry on the cover...shirtless and leaning back into a strong embrace. With a wiry armed man—it was most definitely a man—hard, lean, lightly muscled chest with a fine, soft dusting of hair, black pants slung low but not low enough. But there was only one tiny problem, though there seemed to be a lot of problematic things where this book was concerned.

The man had no face. Or hair on his head. It was just a blank, fleshy oval.

"What..." Harry flipped through the book. The pages were blank too. The book looked like the stereotypical trashy Muggle smut novel, except _Harry_ was on the cover, not some rogue duke or rugged police officer with metal handcuffs. It was just a strikingly accurate picture of Harry, who was now animated and rubbing his bum enthusiastically against the faceless man's covered groin. The only thing written on it was the title: 'Steamed Seduction.'

Harry swallowed and tucked the book into his robes. He had to investigate this further.

* * *

Harry lay in bed studying the book, his wand raised. It wasn't a Horcrux, those were all gone, and Harry would be able to tell if it was dark magic...he hoped. But who knew what kind of sick joke this was? Maybe it was charmed to turn into whoever touches it. Drawing in a deep, shaky breath, Harry opened the blank book. Neat, typewriter style words ticked on the page.

_Greetings, Harry Potter._

Harry didn't write in it. He gaped at the book instead.

_I know you've had a rough time of it. Poor thing._

Harry nodded slowly. He and the book could agree on that, at least.

_Well, I'm here to help. It's obvious you aren't succeeding much on your own._

"I'm succeeding!" Harry huffed. He was doing pretty well in his classes, save for Potions of course. But he had a sneaky feeling the book wasn't talking about his grades.

_Lonely, sad little boy,_ the book typed, and Harry glared at the page. _Looking for a bit of deep, hot spice in your tea, are we? The Boy Who Lived To Be A Lukewarm Cup Of Sugar Water._

"Hey!" Harry cried, slamming (if he could slam a paperback closed, at least) the book shut and shoving it under his bed. What the bloody hell?

He shook his head, cast a Nox, since he had the room to himself for now, and squeezed his eyes shut.

* * *

Harry woke up to harsh sunlight beating through his eyelids. He stretched with a yawn and hopped out of bed, pulling on his trousers and tie. He glanced over at the bed. The book lay cover down, barely hidden by his blankets. Harry bent down to pick it up and opened it to the page that scathingly tore him down the other night. It was blank. He sighed and tossed it in his bag before heading out of the Common Room to have breakfast.

"Hi Harry," came a timid voice. Harry glanced down; he may be pretty damn short, but Dennis Creevey was even shorter.

"Hullo," Harry said. "I'm sorry about Colin, I really--"

"Do you want to go to the Three Broomsticks with me?" Dennis blurted out and then clasped his hands over his mouth as he turned a brilliant shade of purple-red. 

"Er..." Harry started, as Dennis giggled frantically.

"Harry!"

Harry turned. Seamus was rushing towards him with purpose.

"Creevey," Seamus said coldly. Dennis turned and fled down the corridor. "So, Harry. Do you want to hang out in Hogsmeade sometime? I'm good at making things...explode," Seamus winked, as Harry gaped.

"Well, er, I..."

Seamus patted him on the back. "I can cancel with Alecia, so I'm free this weekend."

Words caught in Harry's throat. What the...Seamus was dating Alecia Spinnet. And...well, he actually didn't know about Dennis, but he knew that the Creevey brothers had always worshipped him so _that_ made sense at least. What in the bloody hell was happening?

"Er, thanks, Seamus, but I'm going to study with Hermione this weekend," Harry lied. Seamus' face clouded and his smile turned downcast. 

"Hussy," Seamus muttered, and marched off as Harry stared after him. Inhaling sharply, he made his way down to the Great Hall.

When he walked through the door, the chatter in the Hall dimmed a bit. Faces that he didn't even recognize well enough turned to stare at him.

Male faces.

Girlfriends poked boyfriends, who seemed to be fixated on every motion Harry made. He sat down next to Hermione and buried his face in his hands.

"Harry?"

"Huh," Harry sighed.

Hermione poked his shoulder. "Everyone's staring at you."

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Who the hell knows," Harry moaned, and lifted his head up to clutch a fork in his trembling hand, trying to ignore the eyes that bored into him.

* * *

"Pay. ATTENTION."

Ladles started stirring potions again, as Harry stared into his cauldron silently. He glanced up; most of the boys were still staring at him, only their hands were gripped around their ladles again. Thank Merlin.

"Counterclockwise, you twits," Snape snapped. At least Snape was always an instant boner killer. The class bent their heads down and focused on their potions once more. 

Finally class was over, and Potions was the last class of the day. Harry could escape...the Common Room was too accessible, but he could go to Hagrid's. Only the students seemed to be after him, thank God, and Harry was going to make a quick exit any minute now.

"You idiots have managed to bungle up yet another basic potion. Only Miss Parkinson and..." Snape paused, as Hermione huffed, "...Miss Granger have seemed to accomplished something. Potter, stay after class."

Or not. Harry scowled into his cauldron as the rest of the class filtered out of the room. Harry didn't lift his face, but Snape started to speak anyway.

"I see that defeating the Dark Lord has inflated your already planet-sized ego, Potter. Your fan club has expanded even more." 

Harry gnashed his teeth. He had half a mind to pull the book out of his bag and ask Snape what kind of... _curse_ the book had placed on him, (because it HAD to be the book,) but he didn't really want to brandish a book with him humping a faceless man in Snape's face. Ugh.

"I didn't ask for it, you know," Harry muttered and glanced up to catch Snape's face twist, his crooked teeth bared. 

"Ah, yes, the illustrious Potter," Snape started, and Harry sighed. This could go on for hours, and Harry didn't want to spend any more time with Snape than was necessary. He'd rather hang with even _Creevey._ "Never to blame, despite hoards of enthusiastic fans worshipping at his feet. Surely he wouldn't preen his feathers, and he wouldn't indulge them because that's simply too...pedestrian."

Harry nearly saw red. He wanted to smash his metal ladle in Snape's sneering face and knock a few yellow teeth out. It might fix his nose, though.

"May I leave, _sir?"_ Harry forced the words out, his hand clutched around his ladle, ready to smash Snape's face in. He didn't care how many points he would lose. He was even willing to take on Azkaban.

"Ten points," Snape said.

"For what?" Harry screeched. Snape smirked.

"For distracting my class. Now go find someone to salivate over you. I'm sure it won't be hard." Snape turned his back on Harry and made his way toward his desk as Harry grabbed his bag and marched off.

* * *

The day seemed to go on forever. Harry was exhausted. He managed to reject all offers to meet in Hogsmeade (and the Astronomy Tower) and he was bloody well sick of it. Couldn't he ever catch a break? 

He tore through his bag to grab the book and open it, wand brandished. "What the hell are you?"

_Have fun today, Harry?_

"Absolutely not!" Harry hissed. "What kind of dark magic are you?"

 _I'll tell if you tell me all of your dirty little secrets,_ the book wrote, and Harry flushed. He didn't really have any, and that was the problem. The book seemed to know that somehow. _Not to worry. I'm nothing bad, not really. I'll help you out more than you know._

"You're more trouble than you're worth, you cheap piece of tree bark," Harry seethed. He knew the book couldn't hear him, but it seemed to because words kept pouring on the page. 

_I know you're upset with me, but this is for your own good. I think you deserve a little bit of love in your life._

"I don't need help from a magical porn book," Harry muttered. If books could smirk, Harry was certain that this one would.

 _Just you wait,_ the book wrote. _You'll thank me in the end. Now get some beauty sleep. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow._

And today was only Tuesday. Harry groaned, closed the book, and curled up in his bed. He flopped down and pressed the pillow over his head. How could this get any worse?


	2. Too Hot to Handle

Harry sighed and twirled his spoon. Today was the same as yesterday, and all of the men still seemed to be mesmerized by his every move. Harry wagered if he went to the loo near the Great Hall, they'd still follow him in the stall. He shuddered at the thought and spooned up some mashed potatoes.

"Hey, Harry," Neville said, sitting down next to him and patting him on the shoulder. Harry grimaced. "Why's everyone following you around?"

Thank Merlin. Neville didn't seem to be affected by whatever the hell the book had done to him. Harry shook his head.

"Dunno," he answered, and shoved another spoonful in his mouth. Neville shrugged and grabbed a fork.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Clearly it's some sort of spell," she said, her voice lofty. "Someone must have cast one on you. Possibly Draco Malfoy."

Harry snorted. "Why Malfoy?"

"Er..." Neville started.

Hermione huffed. "Because he's heading this way _now."_

Harry swallowed his mashed potatoes and turned to glance behind him. Sure enough, the slimy little ferret was making his way toward him, and Harry glared as Malfoy shot him a smug grin.

"Potter," Malfoy said. Harry's eyes narrowed. Great. Bloody well wonderful. "What's a fine man like you hanging out with the likes of..." Malfoy's eyes drifted toward Neville, bypassing Hermione completely.

"I'll have you know--" Harry started, as Malfoy interrupted him.

"Why don't you hang out with me sometime? I know of better places than just Hogsmeade. I've been known to slither into..." 

Harry clenched his spoon tightly in his hand.

"...hard to find spots," Malfoy finished with a smarmy smile painting his pointy little features. "There's a better bar in the north end of Knockturn. Right nice place. Not dodgy at all, unlike some places."

"The Hogshead's the only place I go," Harry retorted. Or the Leaky Cauldron and the Three Broomsticks, but Harry didn't want to talk to Malfoy more than was necessary. Malfoy smirked.

"When you change your mind, come find me," Malfoy said, brushing his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry's skin crawled and he snatched his arm back as Malfoy flounced away.

"Gross," Harry muttered. "What a git."

"Harry..." Hermione started. Harry lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug.

"Just my luck, I guess." Harry didn't really feel like showing the book to Hermione and Neville. He cradled his head in his hands and let out a long-winded sigh.

* * *

Harry didn't think he could sit through Charms another second. Terry Boot had already slipped him a note declaring his newfound affection for Harry, and Justin was eyeing him from the other side of the room. Harry focused on Flitwick, who was thankfully unaware of Harry's current situation.

"Now, we take the wand like so, flick it with your right hand--"

"I'd like to flick _him_ with my right hand," someone whispered, and Harry blushed as muted laughter filled the room. He frowned and studied his Charms book, determined not to look up.

After what seemed to be a lifetime (Nicholas Flamel style) Harry gathered his bag and rushed out the door to the dungeons, leaving Hermione and the rest of the class behind. He barged into the empty Potions classroom, heaving out a breath and rushing to his seat. He glanced up to see Snape smirking at him.

"What, is your adoring public too much to handle now, Potter? And here I thought you enjoyed your acclamation."

Harry desperately wished he could tell Snape to just shove his wand up in an unsightly place. But at least Snape was better than the hoards of men who seemed to be crawling out of the woodwork to slobber all over him. 

All too soon the rest of the class arrived, and Malfoy made a beeline towards him as Harry gulped. Oh, thank _Merlin._ Hermione rushed over to take a spot next to Harry and pulled out her book.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, as Hermione hummed under her breath and patted his hand.

"We have to get to the bottom of this," Hermione hissed, and Harry swallowed the lump in his throat.

"No need," Harry squeaked. "I'll figure this out on my own."

"Harry, you can't be--"

"I'll be fine," Harry insisted, and Hermione let it be.

Snape was his usual awful self, his scathing comments keeping the rest of the class at bay. Harry didn't think he'd ever been more grateful for Snape's nastiness.

"Pray tell, what is _this,_ Potter?"

Harry glanced up at Snape, who was scowling through the greasy hair that fell in his face. Harry hissed a breath through his teeth.

"It's a potion, _sir."_

Snape's eyes were slits. "Oh? And what..." he tipped the cauldron to the side with his wand, "version of Amortentia is this? It appears to have the consistency of shoe polish."

Harry glowered and ground his teeth together. "Redo it," Snape spat, and Harry was sure Snape's spittle was added to the many ingredients in the potion.

Harry slaved away over his cauldron, and with Hermione's whispered advice, finally the potion was done. Harry bent over the finished product and inhaled as he stirred one last time. He smelled the dust of the Quidditch pitch, worn leather, and dark, warm spices with a hint of freshly ground coffee beans and brown sugar. Harry shook his head and poured the Amortentia in his beaker. 

"I smell...the woods and cheap cologne. And Bertie Bott's strawberry bean."

"I smell the same thing!" Another boy exclaimed, and Harry walked up to Snape's desk to hand him his beaker.

And then the class erupted.

"It's him! The smell! It's Harry!" 

Harry let out a squeak as boys clambered towards him, coming closer and closer. Terry Boot reached him first, grabbing the front of Harry's robes and inhaling. 

"Harry, you smell so good..."

Harry brushed the boys away, but there were so many clustered around him, just staring at him with gaping mouths. He glanced around the room; the girls looked angrier than Filch wrapped up in a bright pink bow (Harry chuckled inwardly a bit at the image of Umbridge twirling a piece of pink ribbon around Filch). He looked up at Snape, who was standing by his desk with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Harry felt a little kick of glee at that expression—he'd never seen Snape look like that before.

"ENOUGH!" Snape bellowed, and the boys inched away, though Terry lingered a bit longer than was comfortable. "Class is dismissed. All except..."

Harry sighed.

"...Potter."

Reluctantly, the boys of the class moved away and filtered out of the room, and Hermione gave Harry an apologetic smile before disappearing in the corridor. Snape cleared his throat.

"Sit, Potter."

Harry sat, but he took his time doing it. He glared at Snape. Harry wasn't about to spill his secret. He kicked his bag underneath the desk with a huff.

"So," Snape started, as Harry grimaced. "You've bewitched them, obviously. Such an offense could have you expelled, Potter."

"I didn't--"

Snape leaned forward with an ugly sneer stretching his face. "You must have done something to warrant..." he flicked his hand, "this behavior. Your foolishness and penchant for getting into mishaps has taken over your sensibilities once again, Potter. I shouldn't be surprised, you were always like your father, taking and doing before thinking of the consequences--"

"I didn't do anything!" Harry cried. "It just...it just happened!" He averted his eyes. He didn't want Snape poking his huge, beaky nose into Harry's business, and Harry wasn't that good at Occlumency, even now.

"It's not a curse," Snape said. "At least, not one I've seen before. Potter...I'll find out what you've done. Make no mistake," Snape balled his hand into a fist and slammed it down on his desk. "Now go," he continued, his tone soft and deadly now, "before I make you clean these desks off with your tongue."

Harry glowered and grabbed his bag, making his way out the door. He walked with his head down as quickly as he could to the common room. With a sigh, he entered the room. Not many people were there, except for Neville and.... 

Seamus.

Seamus beamed at Harry and rushed over to him, wrapping his arm around Harry's shoulders. "Hey, Harry!"

"Hullo," Harry said, his voice monotone. He was exhausted. "I'm going to my room to sleep."

"Want company?" Seamus winked. Harry shook his head slowly.

"I...I think I'll be okay," Harry stammered. "I'm...just going to go, now..."

"Oh, come on!" Seamus cried. "A game of Exploding Snap never hurt anyone."

Hermione burst into the common room, her hair wild and flying around her face. "On the contrary, people _can_ get hurt from Exploding Snap. Harry, this way."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Hermione had perfect timing. He was quick to catch the venomous glare Seamus shot Hermione's way but figured he should just ignore it for now. 

Hermione led him to the girl's dormitory and to her private room. "You'll be fine in here," Hermione said. "They can't get to you in here."

"Thanks, 'Mione," Harry said and fell on the bed with a groan. 

"What exactly is happening?" Hermione asked. Harry glanced at his bag for a brief moment. He'd tell her...eventually. Maybe tomorrow. He was too tired to get into the book and all of it's mysterious, inappropriate details right now.

"It's a long story," Harry said. He shook his head and ruffled his hair back. "I don't exactly know, is the problem. Well, maybe I know..."

"Tell me, Harry," Hermione said, her voice so stern Harry was reminded of McGonagall for a brief moment.

"Too tired," Harry yawned. "Need sleep."

"You can't sleep here long," Hermione said. "Only until I get back from Prefect duty."

"Yeah, sounds good," Harry mumbled and fell into the mattress. 

His own snores woke him up. It was dark outside, and he missed dinner. His stomach roiled in protest as he bent down to shuffle through his bag.

_Hello, Harry._

"Whatever you're doing to me, stop it!" Harry hissed. "You're fucking up my life! It's already too complicated."

 _I'm just trying to help,_ the book typed. _You're so close to finding what we both seek, but you're just far away enough to not see it, even when it's right under your perky little nose._

Harry growled. "I don't want anything. I'm perfectly happy being single!"

_Are you really, Harry? You're lonely. You're a lonely little virgin who can't find a man on his own. I know who your other half is, but I'm not telling you. That's something you have to figure out for yourself._

"I hate you!" Harry seethed, closing the book and considering shredding it with Sectumsempra. He slipped it back into his bag and inched his way out of Hermione's room.

When he made his way to the boy's dormitory, thankfully only Neville waited for him. "Harry, missed you at dinner."

"Yeah," Harry sighed, raking his hand through his messy hair. "I can't do this. This is too much."

Neville sat down next to him on the bed. "Do you know what's causing it?"

Again Harry was tempted to show Neville the book, but he honestly didn't feel like explaining why he was on the cover of a pornish novel. Even Harry didn't know! "No, not really," Harry said instead, but he would talk to Neville and Hermione tomorrow.

* * *

The next day proved to be worse than the previous, as Harry sat smushed between Draco Malfoy and Hermione.

"Leave him alone," Hermione hissed, tugging Harry closer to her. Malfoy smirked, sidling up closer to Harry as the dungeon door slammed open.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said as if he were on automatic, and Harry stood up. 

"What?"

"Quit your bellyaching, Potter, and stop disrupting my class."

"But-but-"

"Sit down," Snape snapped, and Malfoy moved away with a lingering touch to Harry's hand as Harry sat down. He snatched his hand back and set it in his lap, closing his legs together and pressing his lips into a thin line. Snape took points from Harry. From Harry! It was Malfoy who was practically molesting him on the potions bench, and Snape took it upon himself to...

Harry stood up again. "That wasn't fair."

Audible gasps chorused through the room as Snape stopped pacing. His eyes took on a dangerous glint. "Not fair, you say? Then, Potter, what would be fair? Detention for such flagrant disregard to my authority, my class--"

"Screw your authority!" Harry shrieked. He'd had enough. He clutched his cauldron, wishing he could pick it up and toss it at Snape's oily head, or maybe even throw it as hard as he could at Snape's crotch and laugh as he fell to the floor and clutched between his legs...Ah, if only. "I didn't do anything wrong! But no, Slytherin is never to blame, not here!"

The skin around Snape's lips was white and his thin lips were trembling. "You. You will serve detention with Filch tonight, scrubbing toilets. If I hear anymore disrespect from you, it will be fifty points, not ten."

Harry sat down with a growl. He glanced at Snape, who was staring at him as if he wanted to hang Harry by his feet with fish hooks.

Harry sighed and stroked the side of his cauldron. Yes, Snape was a very brave man, yes, Snape loved, loved deeply, and probably still did. But what Harry wouldn't give to chuck this cauldron and see Snape howl in pain. He glanced side-eyed to the man in question, his eyes drifting lower until he could see the vee where his frock coat ended and his trousers began through his slightly mussed robes.

Harry's eyes widened as Snape drifted through the room, his robes now flowing over his frock coat, shielding himself from Harry's view, though unwittingly.

Snape had a bulge.

Snape. Bulge.

Harry didn't know if he should laugh, throw up, or wank quietly in the nearby loo. Snape probably _got off_ on yelling at Harry. How sick was that? But Harry's treacherous cock twitched in interest as he watched Snape belittle the rest of the class as they sweated over their cauldrons.

Harry shuddered. What was wrong with him? Even looking at Malfoy would be better than looking at Snape. But from what Harry gathered in that very brief moment of ogling Snape...Snape was packing more than just a peppermint stick in his pants. Harry gulped and glanced over at Malfoy, who was smirking at him.

This was all too surreal, and Harry didn't like it one bit.


	3. Unsuited Suitors

"Harry."

Harry glanced up from his plate. Hermione's lips were pursed and she was frowning. Harry sighed. He supposed he should tell her what was going on, but even he didn't know for sure!

"Alright," Harry conceded. "I'll tell you after classes."

Hermione nodded and turned to bury her nose in one of her books. Harry bit into his toast and tried his damnedest to not look up and face all of the men who were staring his way. Luckily the first class of the day was Transfiguration, and McGonagall never stood for any flirting or hands-on-ness in her class. Today was no different, and her voice was shrill as Justin and Terry inched their chairs closer to where Harry sat. 

"No more nonsense!" McGonagall exclaimed, her voice blasting in the room and banging off the walls. Harry cringed. "I've had enough! One more word...no, action out of turn, and you'll earn yourselves a week of detention with Filch cleaning the staircases with vinegar and a toothbrush!"

There were a few low mumbles, and Terry retreated. Harry let out a sigh of relief. A sigh that was quickly extinguished when he realized Defense was the next class and Malfoy was ten times worse than Terry Boot. Harry rubbed his forehead and dropped his hand on the desk, where Hermione patted it. 

"It'll be alright, Harry," Hermione said, her tone sympathetic. Harry grumbled under his breath and became lost in thought.

He wished he could stop thinking about what he saw yesterday in Potions. Harry shook his head, but, regrettably, it was a hard image to get out of his head. But Snape was greasy, nasty, ugly, mean... 

No way. Even daydreaming about Snape (unfortunate as that may be) was off-limits. Harry may have reached the bottom right now, but thoughts of Snape would just make him sink further in the muck.

Transfiguration was over, which meant Defense with the new, young, and gorgeous Professor Melton. Well, aesthetically attractive if you were into females, anyway. Maybe she would be enough to drive the men off.

Harry entered the classroom as the rest followed him like love-sick puppies. If this was a normal day, the boys would drool all over Melton, who was only twenty. Melton smiled, her lithe figure moving across the room as she tossed her shiny brown hair over her shoulder. Sometimes Harry thought she got a kick out of making all of the seventh years blush, and that theory was cemented when the boys all ignored her in favor of making kissing noises at Harry. Melton's eyes narrowed and she frowned.

"In your seats," Melton snapped, her eyes flicking to Harry. "Today we're studying Manticores and..."

Harry let her words drift in between his ears. He just didn't care today. He was almost looking forward to Potions, because at least scowling was normal for Snape. He stared down at his desk and started to pick at the wood.

After an hour, Hermione elbowed him in the side. "Yeah, I'm coming," Harry grumbled, as Malfoy shoved Terry out of the way and blocked Harry's path.

"Potter," Malfoy simpered. "Or is it...Harry?"

"It's still Potter," Harry snapped. This experience was getting more and more annoying by the second. He brushed Malfoy off, who was being presumptuous and rubbing his shoulder gently. Ugh. 

"Well, why don't you come to the Slytherin common room tonight, about eleven?"

"Not a chance," Harry growled and rushed past him to get a running start to Potions. Harry never thought he'd been more relieved to see Snape's ugly face, which was twisted in a sneer as Malfoy trailed behind Harry. Malfoy was grabbing at Harry's robes, trying to tug him closer. 

"Mister Malfoy, take your seat," Snape snapped, and Harry felt like gloating as Malfoy's face dropped and Harry wrestled his robes back. "And Potter?"

Harry glared up at Snape, daring him to make a nasty remark. Which, of course, he did.

"Seducing the Slytherin's now, Potter? This behavior may be acceptable with your other teachers, but I," Snape folded his arms in front of him, and Harry felt his own face set in a Snape-like scowl, "will not tolerate your...insipid teenage fondling in class."

"But-it's not like-what?" Harry cried, his face burning and his chest filling with boiling anger. Snape smirked.

"If I catch you out on my patrol, _Potter,"_ Snape said silkily, "I will tie your body to a tree in the Forbidden Forest and let the Acromantula's have you, mark my words. Take a seat."

Harry fervently wished he could transfigure Snape's balls into Snitches and watch as he struggled to keep them in his pants. Harry tipped his head and hid his grin in his robe sleeve as he stepped past Snape. Snape...tying him to a tree...Harry shook his head. That thought really should be more repulsive than it felt, but he was just going to ignore his very inappropriate erection and concentrate on brewing. For once in his life, Harry focused as hard as he could on his cauldron, ignoring muted catcalls and whispers and proddings. He filled with self-disgust as he tried to get his brain off of trees and rope, and Snape whipping him with said rope...pretty nasty, that. 

He should throw that book...no, _burn_ that book. What a brilliant idea! That should put a stop to this fiasco. Maybe the book was the reason he was having weird thoughts about Snape, too. It seemed to be the source of many problems now. Harry stirred his potion and wiped his forehead as the heat of the cauldron spread. Yes, he'd do it tonight. He wouldn't have to tell Hermione or Neville...he'd just throw it away and this would all end. Someone else would find the book...no, Harry didn't want to be on the opposite end of the book's curse, either. He didn't want to end up panting over someone...anyone like that, anyway! He shuddered at the thought of Malfoy finding the book. 

He'd toss it in the Room of Requirement like he did with the Half-Blood Prince's book. Harry finished with the final stir, watching his potion bubble softly as Hermione glanced over. 

"Good job, Harry!"

Harry nodded and grinned. Yeah, he did pretty well. Even Snape wouldn't be able to deny that. He poured his potion in a bottle and stepped to Snape's desk before anyone else, thrusting the bottle on the desk and turning away.

"Potter."

Any second now Snape would begrudgingly give Harry points, or at the very least, be less of a git to him for the rest of the day. Alas, this wasn't to be, because Snape smirked at Harry, his eyes hard and glinting.

"Hmm, another mediocre potion from a mediocre student," Snape started, and Harry's eyes widened.

"But!"

"This potion should be at least twenty degrees cooler," Snape said smoothly, lifting himself out of his chair and putting his hand on his hip. Harry felt his whole body flush with anger. Or something akin to anger, as Harry glanced down despite himself. Snape's crotch was obscured with layers of robe, and Harry wasn't sure if he was thankful or not. "You pass, but barely," Snape snapped, waving Harry away. "Go on your merry way, then." 

Harry growled, stalked over to Hermione, and grabbed his bag. He'd get rid of the book. Tonight.

* * *

Harry shivered as he dug through his bag. It had been a quiet night for him; he retreated to his room right after he finished scarfing down his dinner before anyone else. He was alone with the book. He couldn't contain his curiosity. He had to know the book's final words before he got rid of it for good. 

_Harry, my darling boy_

"You've really fucked me over here," Harry hissed, grabbing the book and shaking it as if it could feel him. "No one leaves me alone...well, the girls do, and I don't mind that, but Malfoy? _Really?"_

_Love is blind,_ the book typed, and Harry almost ripped it apart. _Rest assured, Draco Malfoy isn't your beloved._

"Beloved?" Harry shrieked. "I don't want a beloved! I haven't even been on a proper date!"

_That's why I'm here. You're so close, Harry. So close. You just have to open your eyes to see all of the possibilities. And I'm not giving you any hints. You have to learn to do this for yourself, dear child. And just imagine...finally losing your chastity. You need a good, hard--_

"ARGH!" Harry cried, and shoved the book in his robes as he grabbed his Invisibility Cloak. It was time.

Harry tiptoed out of the common room and into the hall, making his way down the corridor to the Room of Requirement.

He finally made it. Harry sighed as the door opened. Bookshelves were propped up against the walls, along with random articles of clothing. Harry scrunched up his nose as he stepped over a pair of faded, most likely dirty boxers. He pulled Steamed Seduction out, drew his arm back, and flung it as hard as he could at the wall.

With a sigh of relief, Harry exited the room and made his way back. A rustle sounded in front of him, and Harry froze.

"Sev'rus," Filch grunted, as Snape nodded and paced down the corridor. Towards Harry. Harry slunk backward until his back hit the wall, but a painting jostled. 

"Oi! Watch it!" the painting grumbled, and Harry scooted further back as Snape descended upon him. Harry scuttled away as Snape's hand snatched thin air.

"Potter..." Snape growled, and Harry turned and ran.

* * *

Harry woke up the next morning with a yawn. It was Thursday, which meant the weekend was nigh. Which meant no classes, no needless fawning, no anything. Harry couldn't wait. He grinned and lifted himself up. It was a dismal day outside, the grey sky flickering with the promise of lightning. A sheet of rain spattered the window, and Harry pulled on his robes.

With a cheerful grin, Harry bounced out of the common room and down to the Great Hall. The Great Hall, where he was immediately accosted by Malfoy. 

"Harry!" Malfoy purred, tracing his finger down Harry's chest. "I thought you'd never show. It's pretty late for breakfast."

Harry's jaw dropped. Getting rid of the book did nothing to stop the advances. Harry glanced around the Hall to see hoards of men glaring at Malfoy, and Harry hoped they start throwing forks at the blond git's face. Harry stepped back and walked over to Hermione.

"Harry?"

"It didn't work," Harry whispered. "I thought it would! But it didn't..."

"What didn't work?" Hermione asked as Harry dropped his head into his hands. 

"It's...a long story," Harry answered. "I'll tell you if I can get a chance later."

Hermione nodded and turned back to her pumpkin juice as Harry seethed inwardly. This book was intent on making Harry's life hell, good intentions aside. Harry wasn't going to stand for much more of this, but who knew where that book was, now that it was hidden in the Room of Requirement. It wasn't as if he could look for it now.

Harry clenched his fork and stabbed it into his eggs. This had to stop. It would, right? It would just take time.

That's what Harry continued to tell himself throughout the day, as Terry Boot pelted him with candy hearts in Defence. Harry balled his hands into fists and lowered his eyes to stare intently at his book.

Potions was the last class, and that meant one more day until the weekend...

Harry's heart dropped into the pit of his squirming stomach. Snape. Snape knew he had been out past curfew. Snape didn't scare him, but he really didn't want any unneeded drama in his life. He already had an abundance. Harry grabbed his bag and huffed out a breath.

Harry hung at the back of the class, shrugging off as many advances as he could as he inched his way toward his table. Hermione patted his hand and Harry sighed. Snape swept in, glaring at every single one of them before his eyes lit on Harry. If Snape's expression could get any uglier, it did, and Harry gulped. Detention was inevitable. Harry desperately hoped it was with Filch. 

Potions was an awful ordeal. Malfoy slithered his way up to Harry and stroked his fingers over Harry's hand as Harry stirred his cauldron, unable to brush him away.

"Don't you have your own potion to work on?" Harry hissed. Malfoy came closer, his breath wafting over Harry's cheek.

"The only thing I want to work on is you," Malfoy whispered, and his finger-strokes became a little harder and more intense.

"Leave me alone!" Harry said, and Snape cleared his throat.

"Ten points from Slytherin," Snape said, and Harry felt a shot of glee rush through him as Malfoy's jaw dropped. "And ten from Gryffindor."

"Gryffin—what?" Harry cried. Snape folded his arms over his chest.

"You shouldn't enable my...valuable students, Potter," Snape said, his voice oily and smooth. "Stay after class."

Harry seethed into his cauldron. He could almost feel himself foam at the mouth. Potions was nearly over, and Snape was horrible company, so Harry prayed he wouldn't have to stay longer than was necessary. The rest of the class filtered out of the room shortly after, and Harry narrowed his eyes as Snape drummed his fingers on his wooden desk. 

"Explain why you were skulking around well past ten, Potter. Hurry up, now."

"I..." Harry really didn't want to explain why he really was sneaking about, he...he just couldn't tell Snape. And it wasn't as if he had any proof now. "I..."

"You were out galavanting around the castle with one of your many suitors, hm?"

"No, I—it's not like--"

"I know how you _Potters"_ Snape spat out the word, "are. Well, boy, there are severe consequences. And you will be serving a week's worth of detention."

"With who?" Harry snapped, before he could stop himself. Snape's face split in an evil grin.

"With me. And...Mister Filch will be overseeing a few as well. I must say, I almost miss having a Potter at my mercy." 

Harry swallowed, willing himself not to look down and see if Snape's bulge was on display. He couldn't. He wouldn't!

Harry felt his cock twitch in interest. He tried wondering what Malfoy was stashing in his trousers. That would at least make some sense. Harry briefly scanned his brain for an erotic image of Malfoy, but it only made his erection dwindle a bit. Well, Malfoy was good for one thing at least.

"Fine," Harry conceded.

"I don't need you to agree with me, you imbecile," Snape snapped. "Go along, now, to your fawning fans."

Harry was almost reluctant to go. He didn't want to deal with them right now, but he grabbed his bag and left the room instead.

* * *

Harry entered his room and dropped his bag with a long sigh. He thought the day would never end. He flopped down on the bed, but something was poking him in the back. With a sense of dread, he pulled the covers back. 

Steamed Seduction was sitting there, the cover animated in a rush of color and images. Harry was facing the faceless man now, his back arched and his head tipped back as strong arms held him close. Shaking, Harry opened the book.

_Really, dear?_

Harry groaned.

_I won't leave you now, you know. I can't! Not when there's so much work to be done._

"What do you want from me?" Harry moaned. The book seemed to rustle a bit, and more words typed on the page.

_I won't stop until you find the one. And he'll have to want you, too._

"So...I have to weed out my admirers..." Harry paused. "You said Malfoy wasn't the one. Right?"

_Did I say that? I can't remember._

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, feeling a bit desperate.

_Well, you can't be too sure. He might be. He might not be. You'll just have to run through the maze, Harry. You'll find your trophy at the end, I'm sure of it._

"Fine," Harry muttered. "I'll figure this out."

He would, he had to.

How hard could it be?


	4. He's Nott My Boyfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm sorry for the delay in chapters, I just finished my NanoWrimo novel. I've been busy with that and have only been writing one-shots here and there while reading some other book series I've gotten into (it's the curse of being a fangirl, I swear...no one even writes in these fandoms!) I'm still working on my book, and I have two other WIPs on here too, but I'll try and update as fast as I can. Now I actually have time to write fic

Harry shoved the book in his bag, contemplating whether or not he should talk to Hermione and Neville today. Sure, the book didn’t _seem_ dark, but knowing Hermione, she’d want to take it to McGonagall, and how humiliating would that be? 

He didn’t want to go to any of the teachers either, lord forbid Snape. He could just imagine Snape laughing at him, sneering like the nasty, slimy creep he was. Surely Snape would gloat over Harry’s misfortune, but Harry wouldn’t go to him anyway. 

Harry swallowed. He couldn’t stop thinking about Snape’s crotch, and the bulge concealed by layers of heavy robes. He didn’t want to touch it, _no, he absolutely didn’t!_ He didn’t _hate_ Snape, per se, but just because he was brave didn’t mean he had to like him. Harry felt like vomiting. What was he going to do? 

Malfoy intercepted him in the Great Hall, predictable as always. Harry sighed and ruffled his hair as he tried to walk past him. 

“Let me help you with that!” Malfoy cooed, and tangled his fingers in the mess at the top of Harry’s head. Harry cringed and brushed his stick-like fingers away. Malfoy had thin, skeletal fingers, so unlike long, elegant fingers, slightly tapered with larger knuckles, clenched around a ladle. 

Harry wanted to die. He hated that book, and he wouldn’t be having any of these problems or inappropriate thoughts without it. 

“Come on Harry, let’s get some breakfast,” Hermione snapped, directing a poisonous glare to Malfoy and steering Harry to the Gryffindor table. Harry moaned in exasperation and stabbed into a piece of crispy bacon. He glanced up at the staff table where Snape was staring down at his own plate, his face devoid of emotion. His greasy hair obscured his face, but he must have felt Harry’s eyes on him, because his face lifted and he narrowed his eyes. 

Harry could feel that glowering gaze pierce through him, and quickly looked away. Surely Snape couldn’t use Occlumency from this far of a distance, but Harry wasn’t taking any chances of Snape catching a glimpse of his own impressive crotch. Ugh. 

Harry glanced up one more time and Snape was focused on his plate again, scowling at his food. But someone else’s eyes were on him, and Harry looked at the Slytherin table to see the weedy form of Theodore Nott gazing at him dreamily. That was enough to snap him out of his conflicted revery of Severus Snape, git extraordinaire. 

Harry blushed and shoved the bacon into his mouth. He could suffer through the rest of the classes, but then his stomach jumped as Terry grinned and winked at him. Right. Transfiguration with Ravenclaws and some Hufflepuffs, including Justin. And Slytherins in Potions and Defence. 

It was looking to be another long, awful day. 

Harry decided in that moment that he just _had_ to confide in someone. And that someone couldn’t be Hermione, not yet, because he just wanted to rant. He didn’t feel like researching this book and embarrassing himself even further. 

“Neville,” Harry whispered, but Neville was engrossed in his eggs. Harry elbowed him, and Neville started. 

“Harry? What’s wrong?”

“The Common Room. Our room after classes. I need to tell you something, alright?”

Neville looked relieved. “So you’re going to tell me what’s wrong with you, finally?” 

Harry huffed out a breath. “It’s not _me,”_ Harry said firmly. “But…” Hermione was next to them, and he’d tell her soon, he really would. But once Hermione got her head into something, she wouldn’t stop until she was finished. He’d need her later, because obviously this book wasn’t going to stop until he was completely miserable. But right now, more people fussing over him would be too much. Neville wasn’t the fussing sort, and Harry knew he could trust him. 

Defence went as it usually did now, with Professor Melton green with envy as the boys made doe eyes over Harry, sending notes flying around the room until they were swirling around Harry like a cyclone. Harry batted the letters away as Melton raised her voice. 

“One more note, and I’m burning all of the parchment in this room and you’ll get T’s!” she snapped, and the men mumbled under their breaths and slunk back in their chairs. Harry couldn’t help himself; he opened one. Draco Malfoy, of course. Malfoy, who was currently sprawled in his chair, fluttering his eyelids at Harry. Harry wanted to rip Malfoy’s eyelids off and staple them to his thin, mouthy lips. 

If only Hogwarts had staplers…

_Dearest Harry,_

_I know we’ve had a rough past, but you know what they say about rivalries...keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer. I want to be close to you, Harry. Feel your hands on my chest as I rip your clothes off with my teeth and scrape your back with my fingernails as I thrust my--_

Harry tapped his wand on the letter and Incendioed it. Malfoy scrunched his face up and turned away. 

Potions was next. Oh god...Potions. Harry snuck into the room before anyone else. Snape was sitting behind his desk as always, licking at the tip of his quill. Who the hell licks their quill, anyway? But the sight of a hot flash of red tongue sent Harry’s body spiraling into something that just didn’t bode well for him, and he plopped down on the bench, intent on avoiding looking at Snape, even as the man dipped his quill in the inkwell. 

“Find anyone who is grand enough to partner with you yet, Potter? Or are your standards as high as the Astronomy Tower? No one is good enough for the Chosen One, eh?” 

Harry wouldn’t dignify him with an answer. He ignored Snape in favor of pulling out his parchment, making sure to avoid Steamed Seduction. 

“Or have you been playing around with all of them, one by one?” Snape continued, as Harry drug his quill over the parchment to date his notes. “Sneaking off after hours, meeting with some poor, nameless student unworthy of the attention of the Boy-Who-Lived himself, such a celebrity that he feels that he can get away with just about anything--”

The tip of Harry’s quill broke against the parchment. He mended it with shaking hands, and gritted his teeth. “Huh. I bet you’re jealous.” 

The words flew out of his mouth before Harry could stop them. He was faintly proud of himself for voicing his irritation out loud, but he refused to look at Snape and the indignation he was sure twisted his beaky face. 

“You dare--”

“Yeah, I dare,” Harry huffed, because he might as well finish what he had started. “You’re jealous because you don’t have anyone chasing after you.”

Snape’s voice was low and deadly as he replied. “Oh, if you didn’t already have a week of detention...be careful, Potter. If you don’t stop while you’re ahead, your limbs will be in my potions closet and no one will be the wiser.” 

“Death threats now, Professor? And here I thought we were past all that.” Harry let out a snort and tapped his wand against his knee. 

Snape didn’t say anything, but his quill started scratching against the parchment again, and the rest of the class started to arrive. 

Malfoy bustled toward him, and Hermione was behind him, desperately trying to reach Harry before the ferret could get his bony little hands wrapped around Harry’s shoulders. But to Harry’s surprise, Malfoy was knocked out of the way, and Harry looked up to thank his savior. 

Great. Theodore Nott. 

“Hi, Potter,” Nott said lightly. “Malfoy’s a prick. You’d better stick with me if you want him to stay away.” 

“Thanks…” Harry muttered, and Hermione sat next to them as Nott cast a withering glance her way. 

“Don’t mention it,” Nott said, and he didn’t try to manhandle him, which Harry was very grateful for. 

Nott didn’t touch him in any sort of way, but his words were slinking in and out of Harry’s ears, full of innuendos and barely veiled attempts to get him to the Slytherin Common Room. Harry shook his head and concentrated on his potion, but it was pretty hard, with eyes tracking his every move. 

Snape seemed to have had enough. “Class dismissed,” he barked, and Harry let out a sigh of relief. “Not you, Potter. You have detention, remember?”

Most of the girls laughed, but the boys all looked dismayed as they ducked their heads down and walked to the corridor. 

“I want you to chop this Gurdyroot today,” Snape said, slamming down a large jar of roots in front of Harry. Harry snatched it and shot Snape a glare. Snape matched him with bared, crooked teeth, and Harry shuddered. Snape was hideous, and his personality was about as attractive as a moldy loaf of bread. But that vision...that beautiful, juicy bulge…

Harry gulped and glanced down. Nope, no sight of it today, but that didn’t mean that Harry’s imagination wasn’t already running rampant. No, he didn’t want to see it in real life. He didn’t! But he glanced side-eyed again to see if Snape’s robes shifted any so he could get a closer look. 

This was going to be a tedious detention, but at least it steered the boys away. No one wanted to come near Snape with a ten-foot pole, and all of these thoughts about poles and tens and men had Harry flushed, erect, and staring at Snape’s shiny leather boots as the man walked away. 

What did cock taste like, Harry wondered. He’d tasted his own come before, and it was kind of like a musky laundry detergent. But if it was someone else's--would it taste different? Or would it just be more arousing because he would be having sex--actual sex--with someone other than his hand? What did it smell like on someone else? 

Harry was _not_ interested in any of the men who’ve come onto him so far, but should he try, at least? The book said it wouldn’t stop until Harry found the one. But Snape sat down at his desk and glowered at an essay, marking it in red, and Harry imagined crawling under his desk and burying his face in Snape’s lap, taking a deep, long whiff of musk and cock. 

Harry dropped his head into his hands, the Gurdyroot long forgotten. 

“Forget about your task already, you simpleton?” Snape snapped. “Something so easy shouldn’t be hard to grasp, even for someone as inept as you, Potter. Or do you think this is beneath you too?” 

Burying his nose in Snape’s crotch didn’t seem so enticing now. Harry ground his teeth together and began chopping the root. 

At long last, the hour was up, and Harry hoped that the torment of thinking about that nasty man would flee his mind after he left the classroom. Which it did, because Nott was standing next to the outside of the door, a slow smile sliding across his face. Harry gulped. 

“What do you say, Harry? Wanna meet me in the Common Room?”

Disturbing images of a slippery Slytherin orgy popped into Harry’s head, and his erection, once so primed in Snape’s awful presence, was now quickly dulled. “I actually have to meet someone else,” Harry said, and it definitely wasn’t a lie, but he wasn’t going to elaborate any more than that. Nott didn’t need to know that he wasn’t going to be snogging Malfoy or anyone else in a darkened corridor, but if that’s what he wanted to think, maybe it would get him off of Harry’s back. 

Nott’s smile dropped and Harry rushed away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Nott called, and Harry ran faster. 

Neville was in their shared room when Harry burst in. Hermione was out on Prefect duty, so he wouldn’t have to worry about her...well, worrying about him more than he wanted. “What’s up, Harry?” 

“It’s this,” Harry sighed, and braced himself as he pulled out Steamed Seduction. Neville stared at the cover, his mouth dropping open. 

“But Harry, that’s--”

“Me,” Harry said sadly. “And this book says that I have to find the right person or else these boys just won’t stop throwing themselves at me.” 

“I don’t understand why I’m immune, then,” Neville said, his voice sounding lost and distant. 

“Maybe because we’re close,” Harry shrugged. “None of the teachers seem affected, too.” 

“Thank Merlin!” Neville exclaimed. “Can you imagine if Snape tried weaseling his way in?” 

Harry blushed and ignored the fact that maybe he wouldn’t mind it so much now, even as a vision of Snape glaring down his hideous nose flitted through his brain. Glaring down at him as Harry fell on his knees and--

No! Bad Harry. He grimaced and gripped the book tighter. “Here, look at this.” Harry opened the book and tapped his wand on it. 

The typewritten words that usually scrolled over the page didn’t appear. Harry hit the book with his wand again, but nothing happened. Harry growled under his breath. “Usually she talks to me.” 

“She?”

“Er…” Harry had no idea why, but he was under the impression that the book somehow had a female voice. Harry shrugged. “She gives me cryptic advice and insults me, well, in an attempt to find my match.” 

“Your match is...here?” 

“Yeah, and I have to find...er...well, this person…” 

“And you don’t know who he is.” 

Harry let out a squeak. “How do you know it’s a he?” 

Neville raised both eyebrows. He glanced at the cover, and then back at Harry. “It’s only the blokes who are after you, and Harry...honestly, after seeing this book…” 

“Right,” Harry said. “But I don’t know what to do!” 

Neville sighed. “I have an idea. And you probably won’t like it at all, but it’s all I’ve got. If you really need help, you should go to Hermione.” 

“No, not yet,” Harry pleaded. “I’ll try to figure this out first. I’m sure it’s not a dark book, but it’s definitely a nuisance.” 

“Alright,” Neville said. “Well...why don’t you try going out on dates?”

“What?” Harry didn’t want to do it, but Neville’s plan actually...kind of made sense, just with him mentioning it. But did Harry really have to…

“Yeah! Just narrow it down to a few people, and maybe then you’ll meet the right one and stop the spell.” 

“But I don’t--how will I know?” But then Harry remembered the book would tell him. Neville shrugged. 

“Thanks for confiding in me, Harry. I won’t tell anyone. But you should get this sorted out soon.” 

“Thanks Neville,” Harry said, and Neville left the room to head down to the Common Room. Harry opened the book again, and sure enough, the book started typing. 

_Trying to spill our secrets already, dear boy?_

“I’ll find a way out of this, just you see,” Harry snapped. The book twisted in his hands as if it was smirking at him. 

_Love is nothing to escape from, Harry. Love is liberating and exciting, and something to look forward to. You can’t find a way out of this one. You have to find a way into it._

“Sometimes I wonder why I don’t just burn you,” Harry grumbled, and closed the book before she could answer him back. Steamed Seduction wouldn’t get the better of him, nope, not Harry. 

Harry thought about what Neville suggested, that he should go on dates. Harry shuddered. They would have to be in a public place...but there were so many of them he didn’t know where to start. He might as well just have a group meeting and tryouts, the last man standing wins. 

No. He’d have to do this one-on-one with the men who seemed drawn to him the most. Harry shivered and curled up in his blankets despite it not being dinnertime yet. All of the pleasant-slash-disturbing images of Snape had disappeared from his mind, and now his stomach was filled to the brim with sickly sweet dread.

This was going to be a disaster. Who should he even start with? 

Harry lifted himself out of bed to grab a piece of parchment and his quill to begin writing down names. 

**Seamus Finnigan**  
**Justin Finch Fletchley**  
**Dennis Creevey**  
**Theodore Nott**  
**Terry Boot**  
…………. 

Harry paused as his quill scraped at the parchment, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. He really, really didn’t want to write this name. Drawing in a deep, agonizing breath, Harry scratched his quill against the paper.

**Draco Malfoy**


	5. The Jumping Joystick (An Unfortunate Date With Draco Malfoy)

Harry woke up earlier than usual. His gut was squirming as he thought about who he would agree to go on a date with first. 

Maybe he should start from the top to the bottom, with Malfoy. Malfoy seemed to be into him the most, and while the book had said Malfoy wasn’t ‘the one,’ maybe Steamed Seduction was trying to prove a point. Or just make life more difficult for him. Yeah, that sounded about right. 

Harry stretched with a yawn and pulled back the drapes to watch the sun emerge from the horizon, bathing the Quidditch pitch in light as Harry turned and stuffed the book back into his bag. No one was probably in the Great Hall this early, but he couldn’t go back to sleep. He grabbed his bag anyway and made his way out of the Common Room. 

It was nice to be able to wander through the corridors without anyone hassling him. He bounced on his heels as he walked with no destination in mind, aimlessly running his hands down the banister as he walked down the changing staircases. 

Of course, one person was already up, and Harry inhaled a sharp breath when he saw a flash of black flutter past one of the corners. Avoid, avoid, AVOID. 

But Harry had thought a lot about Snape last night, and it wasn’t unwelcome then--now it was different. This was reality, and Harry wanted nothing to do with it, despite that little itch in his brain that demanded that his curiosity is sated. Harry didn’t want to give into his little...urge? Fixation? Whatever the hell it was. Snape was a horrible, mean man--well, maybe not completely awful, but nasty nonetheless. But Harry was a naturally curious person, and he couldn’t help the direction his mind went when he turned the corner and saw Snape walking in front of him, his robes covering his backside--he wondered what it looked like without those billowing robes. 

No. No no no. Harry rubbed his eyes and retreated. He’d just wait until Snape was gone, and then he would go to the Great Hall. Then he would--and Harry sighed--ask Malfoy if he wanted to go to the Hogshead with him. Wonderful. And it was Friday too, which meant that it would probably be after classes. 

Wait! He had detention with Snape tonight! Snape had saved him again, albeit unwittingly. Harry would eventually have to do this, but he wanted to put it off as much as possible. But if he did wait...how much worse would these men get? 

Saturday then. Saturday, and he would go on a date with…

Ugh. Draco bloody Malfoy. 

What would Ron say? Harry didn’t want to know. For once Harry was grateful Ron decided not to come back to Hogwarts. But Harry was disturbed by the fact that he’d much rather be spending quality time with Snape in detention than Malfoy on a date, and Harry groaned wordlessly as he entered the Great Hall. 

There were a few students in the Hall already, and only McGonagall and Snape were at the Head Table. Snape was sipping from a mug, and the perpetual frown that always clouded his face was gone. Ever since Snape came back, the rest of the school (and the Wizarding World at large) welcomed him back (in a way,) but no one ever really came too close to him. Snape let out a sharp bark of laughter as McGonagall said something to him, her eyebrows waggling, and Harry remembered that McGonagall taught Snape too, and they must have been close for years. 

Harry sighed. Why did Snape still hate him so much? Was Harry really that annoying? Was it still because of his dad and Sirius? Or was he still a stark, bitter reminder of Lily? Harry adjusted his glasses as a cup of Earl Grey winked in front of him and he took a large gulp. His unhealthy fixation with all things Snape-ish was getting to be a bit too much for him to handle. It had only started when that book appeared, but even before then, he had to admit he’d been...well, kind of intrigued by Snape and his mysteriousness, even though he knew more about him now then he did back before the War. Now that intrigue had turned into a full-blown obsession, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Snape, in the shower, (did he shower?) steam rising from his pale skin as he soaped his thin, scrawny body up--Snape, stalking around the Potions class, tearing into students and brushing past Harry with the front of his robes--Snape, Snape, _Snape!_ What the hell did this book _do_ to him? 

The man in question must have caught Harry staring at him openly because he turned his head and glared at him before turning back to McGonagall. Harry closed his gaping mouth and set his cup down. If only Hermione and Neville would get here soon…

Hermione woke up early, so she was in the Great Hall about five minutes later, slicking down Harry’s bed head with a huff. Harry sighed and cast an inconspicuous glance at Snape. Snape was reading the Prophet now. Harry had to stop this now. This was not a good thing. What was happening to him? That fucking book…

“You’re up early, Harry.” 

Harry yawned lightly. “Yeah, I didn’t sleep much last night.” He wasn’t about to relive those dreams, because the most disturbing part about them was--he didn’t mind them much at all. In fact, he almost looked forward to them, and Harry felt like casting a Petrificus Totalus on himself and dropping into the lake where only the squid could find him. 

Malfoy sauntered in ten minutes later. Harry drew in a deep breath. For once, Malfoy didn’t spare him a glance, but Harry usually wasn’t up this early, so maybe he didn’t notice him. Harry stood up and looked down at Hermione. 

“Er...I’ll be right back.” 

“Harry?”

“It’s nothing, I just--” 

Neville came in, and they both shared a knowing glance. Neville nodded once, and Harry made his way over to Malfoy. 

“Er. Well…”

“Harry!” Draco swooned, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and squeezing him. “You’ve finally come to your senses, huh?”

“Right…” Harry said, and spared a glance up at the staff table, where Snape was lowering his paper and staring at the two of them. Harry met his eyes, and Snape flicked his paper and lifted it so his face was obscured again. “Say, I’ve thought about it, and maybe…” 

“You want to go to the Jumping Joystick with me, then?” 

Harry stared at him blankly. 

“Oh, come on!” Malfoy whined. “It’s only the best gay bar that side of Knockturn Alley. I told you I know some good spots. Wizards of age can go there, so I’ve been hitting that spot for awhile.” 

Well, at least Harry now knew that Malfoy was in fact gay. It was better than having Seamus Finnigan sniffing around him, but still...Malfoy…

“I’ve even seen people we know there! Let’s see...Boot goes sometimes, but he’s not really my type...hell, I’ve even seen Snape there once, how nasty is that…” 

A spark of static flickered behind Harry’s eyes. “Um. Snape?”

Malfoy snickered. “Yeah, who would have thought? But the only time I saw him he was just sitting at the bar, all alone, drinking himself into a silent stupor…” 

Harry didn’t really know how to process this new information, so he shuffled it in the back of his brain for later use. “Let’s go,” Harry said firmly. “Tonight, after my detention.” 

Malfoy let out a high pitched sound of glee. “Great!” He leaned in closer so the tip of his pointy chin was touching Harry’s neck. Harry repressed the urge to run far, far away. “Classes can’t be done soon enough.” 

Unfortunately, Malfoy was right. The classes sped by, and soon, Harry was sitting in the dungeons, peeling ginger for Monday’s lesson. 

Snape was pretty quiet, even more so than usual. Harry focused on the ginger as much as he could, but he gripped it in his hand and briefly wondered what the weight of Snape’s cock would feel like against his palm. 

Harry gulped. This wasn’t the train of thought he should be having while in Snape’s presence, with him right there, ready to pounce at any moment and ridicule Harry for something or other. But Harry glanced over at him and Snape was still engrossed with his work. Harry breathed a long breath of relief. If only this detention could last forever…

Harry let out a wistful sigh. What was he thinking? A crush...on Severus Snape of all people! Fate always had some sort of way to screw him over. But what Malfoy said earlier...about Snape going to the Jolly Jumper something or other...he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Snape was gay, and Harry had more of a chance than he had thought before. But did Harry really want a chance? He spared a quick glance Snape’s way, observing him as casually as he could. Snape really was kind of ugly, but there was something almost beguiling about him that Harry couldn’t point his finger on. His voice...dark, silk-laced chocolate...the way he moved, as fluidly as a black panther, ready to pounce on his prey...Harry wondered what it would be like if Snape caught him and devoured him whole. Snape was full of love for his mother, his first friend, probably one of his only true friends. And Snape was intelligent, and Harry was reminded of the Half-Blood Prince, and his fascination with the brilliant boy who helped him so much. 

But Snape’s sour expressions and dour personality, his venomous glares and biting comments almost negated all chances of Harry approaching him in any sort of way. 

After another hour of chopping various ingredients, Harry heard Snape let out a low sigh. Harry put the ginger up and cleaned off his workstation, incredibly aware of Snape’s eyes on him as he did. “Can I go now, sir? Is this all I have to do?” Harry drew in a deep breath and decided to tread dangerous waters. “I have a date.”

Snape’s eyes snapped open further and he graced Harry with a slimy sneer. “Oh? Finally found someone worthy of your attention, then?” 

“Yeah,” Harry continued, because he might as well finish what he started. “At the Jumping Joystick. Ever heard of it?” 

The only indication that Harry had was a slight mottled flush that crept up Snape’s face, but his face was as stony as ever. “Students shouldn’t be flouncing around in Knockturn Alley after curfew,” Snape spat. “It’s different during the hols or on break, but when you are in--”

“It’s the weekend!” Harry exclaimed. “And it’s none of your business anyway.” 

“It’s my business because you are still under my tutelage,” Snape growled, and Harry felt the rumbling sound brush up against his spine. Great Merlin, this was awful. Why Snape? Of all people, why him?

A demented part of Harry wished that Snape was in the running to be part of Steamed Seductions’ annoying plot to mess up his life. But Harry dismissed the idea and gathered his things. 

“I’ll see you on Monday then, sir,” Harry said, his tone mild. He didn’t feel like fighting before a date, even if that date was Draco Malfoy. 

Snape waved him away, and Harry left, refusing to look back at the man who was scratching his quill on parchment once more.

* * *

“Finally!” Draco exclaimed, as Harry slicked back his messy hair. “You can even make Muggle clothes look hot, Harry.” 

Draco was dressed in his robes, but they were open and Harry caught a glimpse of leather pants and a tight-fitting green shirt. Malfoy didn’t have much muscle, but he wasn’t unattractive. Harry gulped. He was dreading this, he really was. But he’d never been to a gay bar before, and he might have fun, who knows? 

The Jumping Joystick was pretty packed. It was Friday night, and light was strobing in the club, and even from the outside, they hurt Harry’s eyes. Harry had brought his bag just in case, but he emptied it out so only a few notebooks sat over Steamed Seduction. He had a feeling he might need her tonight. 

“Why the hell did you bring your bag?” Malfoy yelled into his ear as they entered the club. Harry shrugged. 

“You never know when you might need it,” Harry said loudly so he could be heard over the music, but frankly, he didn’t really care if Malfoy heard him or not. 

Malfoy let out a squeal. “I love this song!” He turned to Harry with a smarmy grin. “Put your bag behind the bar. Felicity will take care of it. Let’s dance!” 

Harry grimaced, but did as Malfoy said. He let Malfoy--Draco? Should he call him Draco now--lead him on the dance floor. Harry had no idea what to do. He was as coordinated as a snail wearing a top hat and Malfoy was exactly the opposite, moving his lithe body to and fro, coming closer to Harry’s stumbling form until he was right up against him. Draco was grinding on him, and Harry could feel something suspicious drag across his thigh, and Harry’s thoughts went to Snape, and how much more well endowed he seemed--even with robes hiding his erection! Draco was climbing him like a tree, and Harry just let him, sighing and fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Even the excitement of going to his first gay bar lost its allure, and Harry just wanted to go back to Hogwarts now. 

After a few more torturous dances, Harry brushed Draco away. “I think I need a drink.” 

“Let’s go to the bar, then,” Draco said, still hanging off of Harry like a leech that couldn’t get enough of him. Steamed Seduction said he would know when the right person came along, and that person was definitely not Draco Malfoy. Harry shook his head. This had been a pointless idea. 

Harry slumped on the bar stool as Draco ordered them drinks. “I’m actually getting pretty tired,” Harry said loudly over the music. Draco pouted. 

“Oh, come on! We just got here!”

“Yeah, but--”

Felicity, the bartender, met Harry’s eyes and handed him his bag. Draco let out a huff. “Harry! Please?” 

“Malfoy, I’m just not into you! I don’t want you to grind up on me like I’m a pole, I don’t want to snog you, I don’t want to shag you, I just. Don’t. Want to!” 

Draco looked on the verge of tears, and Harry almost felt a little bit of pity for him. But then he turned up his pointy chin and looked away. “Your loss,” Draco sniffed. “I’ll just find someone else to dance with. You’re as dim as a Flobberworm, Potter, and I’ll be better off anyway.” He hopped off of his barstool and disappeared into the crowd. 

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. 

“The date went well, I’m assuming,” a familiar voice said, the words sliding into his ears like warm velvet. Harry grimaced. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Snape scoffed. “It’s my duty as a Professor to watch over all of the students who might get into mischief after hours. Especially the reckless ones.” 

“Right…” Harry said, and took a gulp of his drink. “I’m going anyway.” He teetered on his barstool and slid off, bag in tow. But he stumbled, and the contents of the bag all fell out. Harry sighed. Snape bent down to pick up one notebook. 

“No Potions book, I see,” Snape said snidely, and Harry groaned. Then dread hit his belly like a bludger. He fell to his knees to grab Steamed Seduction before Snape could, but it was too late. Snape’s eyes widened, and Harry could see the fleshy, blank-faced man stare up at them from the cover. As soon as Snape picked up the book, a flash of purple light surrounded the both of them, and Harry grabbed the book back. 

Static electricity sparked through both of their fingers, and Snape’s grip was strong as Harry tried prying the man’s fingers from the book. 

“What. Is. This.” 

Snape shoved the book under Harry’s nose. 

The faceless man wasn’t blank anymore. Harry was still there, and he was still in the man’s tender embrace. People were starting to stare as the purple light dimmed and dissipated in a shimmering mist. 

It was Snape on the cover. Snape was the one holding Harry, and book-Harry turned to book-Snape as the paper man bent down to capture Harry’s lips in a kiss. 

Harry swallowed. “Er…” 

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do...Potter…”

Harry didn’t know what to do, so he grabbed the book and fled.


	6. Kissing Severus Snape (Without Getting Hexed in the Process)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter turned out alright! I've been going through a really rough time lately. I'm trying to update my WIPs and my own novel that I wrote for Nanowrimo that I'm trying to get published, along with life basically throwing snowballs at me from every direction. I hope I'm not moving too fast (or too slow) and I'm so happy you all like what I have so far. Your positive feedback makes this worth writing, even though I honestly did write this for myself, hehehe. I hope you like it, and I'll try to update more soon, it's just been hectic and rough.
> 
> I have a Snarry playlist on Spotify too, if you want to follow! I'm working on a new video as well, I'll post the link in the next chapter once I get everything together. 
> 
> spotify:user:togepisugar89:playlist:64L9qsGHwoqJdpxtcFIfws

Harry sat alone in his bed, tapping his wand furiously against the pages of Steamed Seduction. The book hadn’t talked to him since Snape touched it, and frankly, it was unnerving. Merlin... _Snape_ was the one he was destined to be with! When Harry thought about it like that, it sounded ridiculous in his head. Though...he wasn’t adverse to the fact at all, which he should be, he really should be. All he could think about was tasting Snape, wiping that smirk off of his thin lips with his tongue. Harry squashed the thoughts down and shook his head. He tapped his wand one last time before tossing it back in his bag. Tomorrow was Saturday, so he could try to avoid Snape and his interrogation until Monday...and hopefully everything would be back to normal, with the rest of the boys, at least. 

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. Thank Merlin it was the weekend.

* * *

“Harry.” 

“Mmph.”

“Harry!” 

Harry grunted as Neville shook him. “It’s breakfast! Don’t you want to eat?”

Harry yawned and shuffled out of bed. The book slipped out of his bag, and Neville gasped. 

“What?” Harry groaned, and then his eyes widened as Neville picked up the book. Snape was still on the cover, and Harry’s face flushed in colors more vibrant than Luna’s earrings. “Yeah, er…” 

“Snape?” Neville gasped. “It’s _Snape?”_

“Unfortunately,” Harry said. But it wasn’t unfortunate at all, because all Harry really wanted to do now was snuggle up in those billowing black robes and inhale the man’s scent. But he still wanted to avoid him, because how awkward would this be? 

“What happened?”

Harry sighed. “He touched the book and _that_ happened,” Harry said. “And she won’t even talk to me now, so I don’t know what’s really happening!” 

Neville straightened his shoulders. “There’s one way to find out,” he said. “You can try having someone else touch the book. I already did,” Neville said, as Harry’s mouth gaped open dumbly, “but someone who was charmed to like you in the first place.” 

Harry didn’t want to go near Draco again, but he supposed he had no choice. Honestly, out of all of the students who had pursued him, he knew Draco better than the rest. Even though he blew him off the other night…

“Good idea,” Harry said, and grabbed the book to head down to the Great Hall. 

When Harry walked in, no one glanced his way save for Hermione. “Harry!” 

Harry grinned. “Hey. I have to do something. Be right back, alright?” 

“Of course,” Hermione said, and stabbed her fork in her eggs. Harry made his way over to the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was deliberately ignoring him. 

“Er. Hi.” 

Draco turned up his nose and braced his shoulders. “What do you want, Potter?”

“Look, I’m sorry about what I said the other night,” Harry replied. “It’s just...I think this might be yours. I found it in my bag, and I wasn’t sure if you left it or not.” 

“What? Why would I leave something for _you?_ And I didn’t anyway.” 

“Just…” Harry’s hands were shaking as he drew Steamed Seduction out of his bag, making sure to keep it face down. Draco’s eyebrows knitted as he reached for the book. 

As soon as Draco placed his fingers on Steamed Seduction, a blast of white light struck him and he slammed to the ground. “Ow...bloody hell, Potter? What the fuck are you playing at?” 

Harry shoved the book in his bag. “I...guess it wasn’t yours after all?” He offered a hand to Draco, who slapped him away. 

“Just go away, Potter. I’ll manage on my own.” 

Harry glanced up at the staff table, only to see Snape staring at him like he was a specimen on a petri dish. Harry blushed and scurried to his table. He couldn’t tell what Snape was feeling, but it might not bode well for Harry. 

“Harry? What was that all about?”

Harry sighed. Should he tell Hermione about Steamed Seduction? Yes, yes, he really should. But it could wait, because Harry couldn’t shake the feeling of Snape’s eyes on him. “I have to go to the loo,” Harry said, and scampered out of the Great Hall. 

He turned the corner and pulled out the book. Snape was still on the cover, and Harry opened the book to find words typing on the page. Finally!

_Don’t you trust my judgement, dear boy?_

“Well, I…” 

_You’ve found him, the book typed. Severus Snape. He’s the one. Congratulations! It only took a week or so...honestly, I thought you’d be a bit quicker to catch on…_

“You shut it,” Harry growled, “how was I supposed to know?” But Harry’s fixation with Snape was growing, burning his chest and clawing its way out of him to spill his heart out. Snape would probably stomp all over it, and where would Harry be then, if Snape really was his soulmate? 

“You have to help me prove it to him,” Harry begged, “please! He won’t believe it if I just tell him.”

The words took longer to tick on the page this time. _Fine. I’ll help you with that. But remember, I can’t do all of the talking. You have to prove yourself, too._

“Prove what?” Harry cried, and then lowered his voice as a few students who were drifting out of the Hall stared at him. “Okay. Okay, but when?”

 _No time like the present,_ the book typed. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and headed back into the Great Hall. He couldn’t do this on an empty stomach. Hermione patted him on the shoulder. 

“You seem distracted today,” she noted, and Harry shrugged. 

“Just a lot of things,” Harry said. Hermione glanced at him, then looked around at the other tables. 

“No one’s after you today,” Hermione said. Harry nodded. “Someone must have put a charm on you. Maybe it’s finally lifted.” 

“It seems that way,” Harry said, avoiding the staff table as best as he could. But the telltale sound of boots stomping on the floor made Harry’s heart patter, and with a shaking hand, he reached for his pumpkin juice. 

“Mister Potter,” Snape said, his voice soft, but laced with something dangerous. Harry flushed, and hoped Hermione didn’t notice. “I’d like to talk to you in my office.” 

“Er...now?” He glanced up at Snape, and wished he hadn’t, because he could feel his face heat even more. A fiery inferno burned under his skin, and Harry tried to shake the feeling away. 

“Now,” Snape hissed, and swept past him to exit the Great Hall.

* * *

Harry sat in Snape’s office, glancing at the potion bottles that lined the walls. Anything would be better than looking into Snape’s eyes...who knows how many fantasies Snape would find in his mind! Harry shuddered and fisted his hands in his lap. This was so humiliating, but at the same time...Harry was relieved that the charm had stopped. No matter how much he dreaded talking to Snape before, now that he was here, he felt emboldened and determined. 

“Take out that book, Potter,” Snape snapped, and with shaking hands, Harry reached into his bag to grab it. Please help me, Harry begged the book silently, and stared as Snape’s long, tapered fingers plucked the book from Harry’s hands. Their fingers brushed again, and Harry couldn’t ignore the sharp spark that ignited when they touched. He flushed and sank further into his seat. 

“Where did you find this?” 

Harry sighed as Snape examined the book, tipping it to the side and flipping through the pages. “In the Restricted Section,” Harry said. “Here...:” He took the book from Snape and tapped his wand on the first page. 

_If you want me to talk to him, he’ll have to hold me,_ the book typed. Snape was standing next to him, peering over his shoulder. Harry sighed and handed the book back to Snape. Snape’s eyes widened, and Harry scooted closer, craning his head so he could see what Steamed Seduction had to say. He could barely read it, but when Snape touched his fingers to the page, the writing started to glow like lamplight, the words twisting and curling on the paper. 

_Hello, Severus Snape._

Harry watched as Snape’s eyes narrowed. He gulped, trying his best not to think about how close they were, how Snape’s body heat seemed to be soaking into him...Harry blinked and continued to stare at the page. Snape was silent, and the book started glowing again. 

_What, nothing to say? Well, if you won’t talk to me, why don’t you start getting closer to your soulmate?_

“Soulmate?” Snape barked, snapping the book shut and glaring at Harry. “This has to be some sort of trick.” 

“But it’s not,” Harry said fervently. “You saw what that charm did. The book said if I didn’t find yo--the right person, those blokes would still be after me.”

“Hmph,” Snape snorted, but he didn’t seem as disgruntled as Harry had imagined him to be. His thin lips were like a slash, and Harry realized that he wanted nothing more than to kiss him and lick against the downcast curl of his lips. What would kissing Snape feel like?

Harry stood up and grasped Snape by the robes, and the book fell from Snape’s hand as he stared down at Harry with a faintly shocked expression on his sallow face. “Believe me,” Harry said. “It’s not a trick.” And then Harry leaned up to kiss him. 

Snape stood motionless, but Harry wasn’t about to let that stop him. He didn’t know how to kiss properly, not really, and he didn't want to make a fool of himself, no matter how eager he was...but even brushing his lips over Snape’s felt worlds away from kissing Cho or Ginny. Snape let out a little huff through his nose, and Harry could feel it tickle his face as he pressed his lips more firmly against Snape. 

Harry broke away with a gasp as Snape stepped back, the man’s fingers trailing over his lips. “You…” 

“Tell me you don’t want to try this,” Harry breathed, shocked that he could be so bold, even for him. “Tell me to go away.” 

Snape turned his back on him, his shoulders braced. “You should go.” 

“I won’t,” Harry said. “There has to be a reason the book put us together. There has to be meaning--”

“There is no meaning!” Snape snarled. “Despite the fact that I…” he drifted off, his shoulders moving up and down with heavy breaths. 

“Despite what?” Harry asked. Should he pressure Snape on what he was about to say? “Fine, I’ll go,” Harry said. He picked up Steamed Seduction and stuffed her back into his bag. “I won’t come bother you again then, I guess.” 

Snape turned to face him as Harry headed to the door. “Wait.” 

Harry couldn’t help it; he perked up slightly and swiveled on his heel. “Wait,” Snape said again, and came closer to him, his robes billowing as he stood in front of Harry. 

“It’s ridiculous,” Snape muttered, “it’s insanity,” then he stroked a single finger under Harry’s chin. Harry’s skin seemed to bubble and fizz with electricity as Snape swooped down to kiss him. 

So...this was what real kissing felt like, then.

Harry opened his mouth eagerly as Snape’s tongue swiped his lips, and it was like he was awakened from a lifelong sleep, like one of the Muggle fairy tales he heard of growing up. Snape’s tongue wasn’t slimy like Ginny’s was, it wasn’t unwelcome at all--it was a perfect rush of liquid heat filling his mouth, and Harry struggled to keep up with him. He dug his fingers into Snape’s robes as their mouths opened against each other, and Snape broke away too soon, sighing through his large nose. 

“If this is insanity, I’m willing to be crazy for the rest of my life,” Harry said, and Snape arched a brow. 

“It’s not a love match,” Snape said, his words like a heavy syrup. “However…”

“You kissed me!” Harry cried, and bit the tongue that was previously caressing Snape’s. Snape turned from him. 

“I did,” Snape said softly. “If this book is correct...how did it know…” 

“Know what?” Harry asked. Snape turned back to glare at him. 

“It’s of no importance,” Snape snapped. “We will have to deal with this. Right now you should go back to your dormitory. I’m sure your friends are waiting for you. It’s the weekend, after all. It’s curious, though…” Snape broke off again, and Harry wished his silence would fill with answers instead. Did Snape feel more for Harry then he let on? That kiss wasn’t a lie...it was passionate, and all-consuming of his attention. It meant something. 

“I want to try this,” Harry said. “And I’ll prove it to you.” 

“How?” Snape hissed, and Harry shrugged slightly. 

“Any way I can,” he answered, and he was surprised to feel that he really meant it. “Think about it…” Harry drifted off, before taking in a deep breath. “Severus.” 

He picked up his bag and walked out the door. He didn’t only shock Snape--Severus, he supposed--today, he shocked himself. That kiss opened his mind to numerous possibilities, and Harry wanted to explore, to taste, to know, to feel…

He sighed and ruffled his hair. He didn’t have any plans today, but for once, he hoped he would see Severus Snape again soon.


	7. Of Toadstools and Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update! Life has been insane and I'm so stressed. I'm working on so many things, and I don't know what to do with myself, honestly. I'll try to update faster from now on, but I'm working on (including this one) three WIP and my own original novel, which I finished but it's just the rough draft so I need to work on it a lot more. Le sigh. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter, things are speeding up a bit and next chapter will be sexy goodness. :)

Sitting through Herbology had never been more tedious. 

Harry stroked his finger absentmindedly over the top of his Leaping...Whatever It Was with a sigh. Neville was concentrated on gathering his in a small bucket as Harry stared blankly at Professor Sprout, her wild grey curls tucked under her hat. To think that there would come a day when Harry was excited for Potions…

Neville elbowed him in the side. “What are you doing?” Neville grunted. “Get these Toadstools in that bucket. They’re for Snape anyhow.” 

Harry perked up. “Snape?”

Neville shook his head slowly and dug into the planter in front of them. “Come on, I can’t do this by myself.” 

Harry drew in a deep breath. Ever since he kissed Snape--Severus, and, well, Severus kissed him, all he could think about was latching his mouth on Severus’ thin lips and giving him his own version of a tongue lashing. It was a terrible, no good idea. Yeah, he was of age, but he was still Severus’ student, And surely if word got out, it wouldn’t look good for either of them. 

Harry wondered if the boys who had fawned over him had any idea what hit them. None of them would look him in the eye now except Malfoy, who was shooting daggers in the Great Hall earlier. Harry shook his head and dug into the soil to grab a Leaping Toadstool. 

It was the longest hour of his life. And he still had one more class to go until Potions. Harry growled under his breath and ripped the Toadstool from the dirt before it could jump away. 

“Good, finally!” Neville exclaimed, and Sprout turned her head towards them. 

“Trouble, boys?” 

“No, no,” Neville said, as Harry echoed him. Sprout bustled over to inspect the Toadstools and hummed under her breath. 

“Not bad,” she said, and nodded to both of them. Harry had never been more grateful for Neville, especially after last week…

“Come on,” Neville called, as Harry dumped the last Leaping Toadstool in the bucket. “I heard Melton’s in a foul mood today.”

When they finally reached Defence, Melton was snapping about the room, raising her upturned little nose at Justin. “A terrible example. Potter! You’re late,” she snarled. Harry ground his teeth together. Ever since he’d been under the book’s spell, Melton had been a nasty blotch of sour milk slithering around Hogwarts in an almost Snape-like way. But Melton had a soft, curvaceous body and delicate features. Not really his type. Well, Harry’s type now seemed to be Snape. Snape, Snape, Snape. It wasn’t just the way his body felt molded against Harry’s, all hard angles and sharpness. It wasn’t just the jolt that Harry felt spiking through his blood when they finally kissed. Harry didn’t really know what it was, it was all of those things, and something more. But what was more? Severus Snape was awful, and cruel...and brilliant, and now...sexy in his own weird, greasy sort of way. 

Who would have ever thought Snape and sexy could be used in the same sentence? Harry snickered under his breath and pulled out his Defence book. This was ridiculous. He already knew all of this stuff. He fought in the war, for Merlin’s sake! He defeated bloody Voldemort, who was getting all moldy in the graves at Hogwarts...yuck. Harry pushed that image out of his head and opened his book anyway. 

A few...minutes? Hours? later, Melton stepped to the front of the classroom, bristling like a hedgehog struck by a stray bolt of lightning. Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if her hair stood up on end while she snapped at Justin again for getting his spell wrong. Harry had had enough. He started to stand from his desk to yell something he wouldn’t actually regret, but the rest of the class shut their books and Harry stuffed his in his bag, right next to Steamed Seduction. _Finally._

“There will be a test on chapter twenty-four tomorrow,” Melton announced, and the class let out a muted, collected groan. Harry rushed out of the room and practically dashed to the dungeons. 

He burst through the door. Snape--Severus--was sitting at his desk, his brow slightly furrowed as he read from a leather-bound book. 

“Hi,” Harry grinned. Snape slowly lifted his head and regarded Harry for a moment, before ducking his head back down. 

“Hello,” Severus murmured, before the class started to drift in. “Take your seat, Potter,” Snape snapped (because he could only be Snape in here, right?) 

“Right…” Harry plopped down on the bench. Hermione scooted in to join him. 

“Harry…” Hermione started. “...you’ve been acting strange lately. Is everything alright?” 

“Everything is alright,” Harry said softly, staring as Snape stood up and stalked through the room. 

“Today you’ll be brewing Draught of Living Death,” Snape announced, his glare dark as he scanned the room. His eyes rested on Harry for a brief moment, and the glare hardened slightly as his eyes narrowed, and Harry could nearly feel the heat in that gaze burn him alive. To the normal viewer, one might say that Snape harbored more hatred for Harry than he did any other student at Hogwarts. Even Neville. But Harry knew differently, and he felt almost powerful knowing that he could make fire like that spark in Snape’s eyes. He wondered how he could stoke the flames further, and _dammit, if only he wasn’t a stringy little virgin._

If Harry could get this potion right, then Snape would have no choice than to give him points. And he might be impressed, and Harry grinned to himself. With the help of the Half-Blood Prince’s book, he’d already brewed it before. Now...if only Harry could remember…

 _Crush the Sopophorous Bean._

Harry could nearly hear Snape’s voice, a dull whisper of silk in his head as he took his dagger and crushed the bean as he had the first time he brewed the Draught. Snape strode through the tables, huffing and snorting at the feeble attempts of the rest of the class. Harry’s potion was bubbling though, and he dropped in the beans and added a clockwise stir. He couldn’t believe he’d actually remembered how to brew this, and Harry had to bite back a crow of triumph. 

Snape stopped in front of Harry’s cauldron as Hermione panted over her own, brushing tendrils of bushy hair out of her face. He glanced down at Harry’s potion. Harry wouldn’t say anything, no, he wouldn’t, but Snape bestowed him a curt nod, one that anyone else would have missed. It was barely there, just a slight downward tip of the chin, and Harry bit his lip so hard he was sure it was bleeding. He licked his lip to taste the copper and salt that stained his bottom lip, and Snape drifted away. 

The rest of the class grumbled as their potions fizzed. Neville’s nearly exploded, but Hermione jumped to help him in the nick of time before they were all doused in a potion induced coma. Snape sneered. 

“For once, it seems that Potter knew what he was doing,” he snapped. “But this will surely go straight to your over-inflated head, Potter, the illustrious hero you are. Don’t think this means you pass my class just yet.” 

Harry’s hand clenched around his ladle. Snape didn’t mean…

Harry’s head cleared of anger. Snape couldn’t show him special treatment. They had to act normal here, in front of everyone else. Harry braced his shoulders. 

“Maybe you’re just mad because I brewed it better than you could,” Harry said snidely, and the class murmured and gasped. Harry glanced at Hermione, whose head was shaking back and forth. He chanced a glance at Malfoy, who looked equally aghast. 

_Ha._

But Snape didn’t look happy, to say the least. The skin around his thin lips were white, and his crooked yellow teeth bared. 

“Detention, Potter,” he said softly. “Stay after class. I’m sure you have more important things to tend to, such as your ever growing fanclub. But I will not tolerate such...insubordinate behavior.” 

“Fine,” Harry hissed. The rest of the class dumped their potions into beakers and filtered out of the room. After the last straggler left, Harry drew in a deep breath. “Are you going to tell me…what’s going to…”

 _“Nothing_ is going to happen,” Snape growled. “What you...we...what I did the other day was...unacceptable. It will not happen again.” 

“Don’t say that,” Harry said, and he cringed inwardly at the neediness that was so apparent in his voice. “You can’t say that.” 

“Why ever not?” Severus turned his back to Harry and gathered up the beakers on his desk to put them on a shelf. “Utter rubbish,” he mumbled, as he examined one bottle. 

“Please,” Harry breathed. “Just one more? Kiss, I mean.” 

Severus sighed, and turned back to Harry. “I don’t--”

Harry closed the distance between them before Severus could move away. He lifted himself up on his tiptoes and brushed his hand on the side of Severus’ face. Severus closed his eyes, and while Harry couldn’t hear it, he could feel his sigh against the skin of his palm. 

“We don’t need that book anymore,” Harry said quietly. “I’ve found you, and that’s what she wanted.” 

“She?”

Harry shook his head. “I’ve never...I, that is, er…” Harry broke off and he could feel his face heat like a stovetop burner. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Ever.”

If anything, Severus’ gaze, once a little lost and cold, turned sooty and dark, embers of burning coal piercing through Harry’s shame. “Never?” 

“Never,” Harry said firmly. 

“Well, I…” Severus paused, before continuing again. “I...would be wrong to say that I wouldn’t, well. In any case, we shouldn’t.” 

“We definitely _should,”_ Harry said eagerly, and as Severus opened his mouth and lowered his head to speak down at him, Harry went in for the kill. 

It was even better than last time, and Harry felt every particle in his body light up and tingle. The book was right. Snape was the one for him, and why hadn’t Harry noticed him before all of this? Severus didn’t seem too disagreeable; he matched Harry’s uncertain kiss with force, prying open Harry’s mouth with his tongue and slipping it inside. Harry clutched his robes and licked at Severus’ tongue. Finally. Just what he needed today. All year. For a long time. 

Severus broke away first with a slight pant. “You’ve never done this sort of thing before,” he stated, and it wasn’t a question but Harry nodded anyway. “I’ll show you what it feels like, to have someone worship every…” he pecked a kiss on Harry’s lips, “Part,” another kiss, “of you.” 

“Why?” Harry asked breathlessly. “I mean, the book said you’re the...well, you’re the one. But you’ve always hated me. Why now?”

Severus stepped back and touched a single finger to his kiss-swollen lips. “I’ve never hated you,” he said softly. “You are erratic...hare-brained...moronic...frustrating beyond belief. But I don’t hate you.” 

“Good,” Harry answered. “Show me...what it’s like.” 

Severus glanced around the empty classroom. “Not here,” he replied. “Not now. Later , perhaps this weekend. This is no place for…”

Harry had to agree. He didn’t want his first...well, his first anything (except the kiss, of course) to be in a dingy dungeon classroom. Even if the room was warded, it wouldn’t be very comfortable, would it? 

“This weekend, then,” Harry said. “I can’t wait.”

Severus smirked. “I will have you begging before the night is through,” he murmured, and reached his hand out to stroke Harry’s bruised bottom lip. “Now go.” 

“Right,” Harry said, and grabbed his books. He glanced back one more time to catch Severus staring down at his own hand. The hand clenched, and Severus turned away. Harry walked out the door and out of the dungeons. 

For once, he was grateful for detention. 

Harry’s heart thumped in his chest. He was so painfully hard that he’d have to go to the nearest loo and wank. But he almost didn’t want to, because the anticipation of what could happen soon was bubbling up inside of him, causing his face to heat and his erection to rise. 

_Only a few more days._


	8. Of the Popping of Cherries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry I've been MIA. Life has my head spinning and I had no inspiration for the longest time. Well I'm back! I'm thinking this fic will be 15 chapters.

Harry tossed in his bed, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he squirmed under the sheets. 

He couldn’t get Sna--Severus off his mind. He shivered and turned on his side. Neville was right there, in the next bed. Harry wasn’t a stranger to wanking quietly in his dorm room, but...with the arousal coiling in his belly, he knew it would be an intense one. 

Harry grabbed his wand and cast a silencing charm before slipping the covers off his torso, breathing a sigh of relief as the blanket dragged on his skin, the lightest sensation prickling his skin as it was finally bared. The blankets bunched around his waist, and Harry reached down to scoot them off farther, and reached down to fist his cock. 

“Ah,” Harry gasped, his hand sliding up and down, hitting the base as he moved up and thumbed the head. A droplet of pre come dribbled down, and he raked his thumb over it and started to jerk a little faster. 

What if this was Severus’ hand stroking his cock? Long, nimble fingers clenching over hot flesh, and... _God_ THAT voice murmuring in his ear…

There was one more thing Harry wanted to try. He’d done it a few times, but he was slightly inexperienced in a way, (but for once, Harry wasn’t bemoaning his virginity because Severus Snape would be the one to take it.) Pop his cherry once and for all. And with that book, saying they were _soulmates_ …it couldn’t be more right.

With a sigh of reluctance, Harry let go of his erection and reached for the stand next to his bed, opening a drawer and grabbing his bottle of lube. He coated his fingers in the salve, feeling the cool liquid warm on his skin. Harry nestled back in bed and eagerly shoved his hand back down to grip his cock. This time, his other hand slowly drifted downward before his fingers rested in his crack. Harry swallowed. He had to be prepared for this. He’d have to try one more finger, at _least._

He turned over on his stomach and lifted himself up slightly, his fingers ghosting over his hole, barely penetrating. He moaned into the pillow and dipped one finger in. 

He clenched against the intrusion, feeling a slight burn as he wiggled in deeper. It did feel good, and he began to thrust in and out slowly. He gasped as he hit a spot inside of him that sent little sparks through his nerves, and he slid his finger out to stroke that spot again. 

_AH!_

God it felt so...it felt amazing. Harry slid a second finger in, and the slight burn intensified before he adjusted to the stretch. He thrust his fingers roughly and twisted them slightly, burying his face in the pillow.  
He was going to come...oh, he was so close…

Harry reached down to fist his cock, stroking feverishly as he bit the pillow. He squawked into the pillow, thanking Merlin that the sound was muffled until he remembered he put a silencing charm on his bed. His orgasm punched out of him as he came all over the sheets, painting his bed as he quivered on the mattress. 

He pulled out slowly and turned over on his back, his breathing labored. Oh my God…if he could do that to himself, imagine what Severus could do…

Panting, Harry wiped his come soaked hand over his brow, cursing as the creamy fluid streaked over his face. He grabbed his wand to clean everything up and settled back down in the bed.

* * *

It was Friday, which meant that tomorrow was Saturday, which meant it was the weekend, which meant no more classes for two whole days, which meant…

Harry would purposely get a detention today, and Severus would have no choice but to fuck him tonight. Harry salivated around his mouthful of eggs, and Hermione glanced his way. 

“Chew or you’ll choke,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “What are you so distracted about? You’ve been acting very...well, odd, lately... “

Harry purposely did not look up at the staff table. “Oh, I’m just thinking about a lot of things.” 

“Oh,” Hermione answered. Her brow furrowed, and Harry gulped his eggs. Hermione was extremely observant and persceptive in a way, and if she put two and two together…

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Harry did choke this time. “What?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Come on Harry. Surely you know by now that I’m no simpleton.” 

“I--”

“The boys following you around, Draco Malfoy pursuing you more than most and...well, rumors fly around fast, you know...he goes to clubs…” 

“And?” Harry stumbled around the single word, feeling like an idiot. “What’s this got to do with me?” 

“It was obviously a spell. But why wouldn’t it attract the females too? And Harry, I’ve been noticing things about you, too.” 

“Such as…” Harry nearly whispered. 

“Such as you making mooneyes after Professor Snape,” she muttered softly.

Harry’s heart leapt up so far it might as well have been in his mouth. “Er…” 

“Oh, come off it Harry, I won’t tell anyone,” Hermione sniffed. “And I don’t judge. But is he...would he even be interested?” 

Harry gaped, his mouth opening and closing like a guppy. “You aren’t at all concerned with the fact that he’s our teacher? And not just any teacher but...Snape? Snape, Hermione?”

“It seems to me that you’re more worried about it than I am,” Hermione scoffed, and reached for her cup of tea. 

Harry flushed, because that couldn’t be farther than the truth. Actually, the teacher thing was kind of hot. 

Harry dared a glance at the head table. Snape was studying his cup of...coffee? Tea? Coffee laced with firewhisky? Harry wanted to know more about him. Everything about him. He wouldn’t bring up his mum, but...what about all the little things? What was his favorite dessert? Does he comb his hair or brush it when he actually shampoos it? Does he wear cologne or was that delicious scent just him? What did he wear to bed? What if it was nothing at all? 

Harry ducked his head down as Severus frowned and looked up from his cup to gaze at Harry. He shouldn’t have thought about Severus naked. He was already at half mast and was swiftly reaching higher. 

“Got to go,” Harry mumbled, pushing his plate away and stumbling off the bench to wander the corridor before class started. He scurried down the corridor to the nearest loo and slammed the door to the cubicle, reaching down to cup his crotch and shove his hand down his trousers. 

“Ah,” Harry groaned as he stroked his cock, gripping it firmly as he came a moment later. He hoped he could last longer in the bedroom. He cleaned himself off with a spell, fastened his trousers back up, and walked out with as much dignity as he could muster.

* * *

“Sir?”

Severus, who seemed intent on ignoring Harry the entire duration of Potions, sneered as he turned to face Harry. 

“Potter?” Severus--well, maybe he should be Snape in class. Snape was a right bastard. 

“I was just wondering something.” Harry gulped. He didn’t want to push his luck too much…

“And...spit it out Potter, I don’t have all day.” 

“What kind of shampoo do you use?” 

Snape’s mouth trembled, and he bared his teeth. “You--”

“I mean, if you used it. You know.” 

The class burst into snorts and quiet giggles as Snape seethed. “Detention, Potter. For the week. For a month. No, for…” Snape shook his head furiously, his greasy hair blanketing his face from view. Well, not that nose, but everything else. 

“Sorry,” Harry muttered as Snape neared his desk. Snape looked like he was fuming, and Harry lowered his head. Harry glanced up and caught Snape’s stare, his eyes softening. _I’m sorry._

He felt Snape prod at his mind slightly, and Harry let him in, a volley of memories of the day racing through his brain. Harry, wanking in the loo, thinking of Severus. Harry moaning into his pillow, his fingers thrusting in and out of his hole. Harry thinking of ways to annoy Severus and get detention…

Snape broke his gaze. “Two weeks then, Potter.” He whirled on his heel and made his way back to his desk. 

Finally class was over, and Harry stayed in his seat as Hermione shot him a knowing glance. Well, Neville did too, but Harry tried to avoid both of their gazes. 

“Sorry for being so mean,” Harry muttered. “I was only giving you an excuse to give me detention. 

Severus nodded brusquely, his tongue darting out to wet his thin lips. 

“So,” Harry started. 

“So,” Severus replied, his eyes resting on Harry. Harry felt his body flush, warmth fizzing under his skin. 

“Where are your quarters?” Harry asked, hoping he didn’t sound too eager. Severus smirked. 

“Through my office,” he answered. “Come with me.” 

Harry followed him. He hadn’t noticed the large tapestry obscuring part of the wall from view before, but Severus tapped his fingers against it and a door materialized in front of him. 

“It’s through here,” Severus said, inclining his head. A curtain of hair fell against his pale skin, and Harry’s heart skittered in his chest. 

It was plain, and books were everywhere. Not scattered, actually...very organized, all seemed alphabetized by author, and since there was so many...Harry wondered how long it took for Snape to put all of these books up. 

But Harry soon forgot about the books as he walked through another doorway and saw Severus’ bedroom. 

And huge canopy bed. 

Brilliant, crimson sheets and cover, oh, they looked like silk...Harry could drown in them. 

He toed off his shoes. “Should I--”

“Whatever it is you want,” Severus murmured. “If you wish to undress, then do so. If you don’t, that’s fine too.”

“Definitely naked,” Harry said excitedly, stripping his tie off before slipping off his robe and shirt. His nipples peaked in the cool air, and he watched eagerly as Severus unbuttoned his frock coat. He’d never been more excited to see skin before, just a bit peeked out, pale and luminous in the candlelight. Hairless, save for a few scattered hairs around pink, pebbled nipples…and then more skin was revealed. A trail of hair began at the bottom of Severus’ belly button, curling into his trousers as Severus slipped the coat off and unzipped. He dragged the trousers down and all that was left were his boxers, emerald green. Harry could nearly smell Severus’ arousal already, and it was heady and intoxicating. 

Harry stumbled forward, cursing himself for his awkwardness. He fell to his knees before Severus and played with the waistband of his boxers. “Take these off too,” Harry said, glancing up at Severus. The other man’s eyes were dark, and if it was hard to see his pupils before, now it was near impossible. They were a black as coal, sparking with flint as he stared down at Harry. 

“You take them off,” Severus breathed, and Harry complied. 

Harry gasped as Severus’ erection was freed. The hard column of flesh stood proudly amongst a blanket of black curls, and Harry dragged his finger through the hair, feeling it crinkle against his skin. He could smell Severus’ lust, rising musk that warmed his body. Severus was huge, and there was no way he could fit all of that thick, long cock in his mouth. Well. He reached his tongue out and licked the glistening head as Severus gripped his hair. 

“Are you su--”

Harry didn’t let him finish his sentence. He engulfed the head, hollowing his cheeks before sliding down farther. There was no way he could go very deep, but he moved back up to tickle the slit with the tip of his tongue. Severus gasped and moaned above him, seemingly trying his very best not to thrust his hips or pull out Harry’s hair. 

Harry pulled his mouth off with a gasp as Severus lifted him up and kissed him. Harry’s head was swimming, and Severus’ tongue was stroking against his own just a moment after his cock was doing the same thing. Harry moaned into Snape’s mouth and curled his tongue around Snape’s lips. 

“Please,” Harry whispered against Severus’ lips. “Please, I want it to be you.” 

Severus broke away to glance at the bed. Harry scurried gracelessly to the bed and flopped down. 

“You’re certainly no seductress,” Severus chuckled. 

“So?” Harry snorted. 

“But still remarkably appealing,” Severus murmured, covering Harry’s naked body with his own. 

Harry groaned as he felt Severus’ cock drag against his sweaty belly. “Wait a moment,” Severus murmured, and got off of Harry to reach for a potion. “So you’re not sore,” Severus explained. “And you won’t be tomorrow.” 

Harry bit his lip. He almost didn’t care. He wanted Severus now, right now, and if he didn’t get over here and fuck hi-

Harry’s thoughts were answered by a wet hand reaching down to fist his cock. Harry arched his back with a groan. “More,” he gasped. “More, want--”

Severus parted Harry’s cheeks and scraped a single nail over his puckered flesh. Harry nearly sobbed. 

“Please,” Harry said. Severus teased his entrance a bit more before sliding a finger in. Harry gyrated against his finger, and soon, he had another one in his hole, stroking expertly against his prostate. 

“Don’t...inside. Don’t want to come til you’re inside me,” Harry moaned, and Severus breathed a curse as he gazed down at Harry, his stare steaming Harry’s groin. 

Harry moaned in appreciation as Severus lined his cock up with Harry’s pucker, rotating the slick head over the winking hole. 

“You want this?” Severus said breathlessly. Harry spread his legs farther and tipped his head back. 

“I...I need this,” Harry groaned, and his groan melted into a high pitched moan as Severus thrust inside.

Huge. Hot. Heat...God, he was so warm and wet and strong...so hard and thick and…

Severus was slow, thrusting in and out, his cock dragging in and out at an agonizing pace. “Faster,” Harry choked. 

“Are you sure?” Severus gasped. Harry swallowed a moan. 

“Fuck...fuck me. Fuck me like you want to--ah!”

Severus jabbed his hips roughly, hitting Harry’s sweet spot as he crammed his cock in and out, in, out…

The pressure in his gut was building like a forest fire. He wouldn’t last that long...not with Severus’ thick cock filling him so perfectly, as if Harry was molded after it, built for it…

Severus reached down to stroke Harry’s cock, and Harry couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He came with a shout of relief as Severus pumped him, come splattering over Severus and all over Harry’s belly. Harry quivered and sank into the bed as Severus pummelled him. 

“You liked that?” Severus purred as he rammed into him. 

Harry only moaned, stars still sparking underneath his eyelids. 

After a few moments, Severus came with a low cry, the sound like a velvet blanket wrapping around Harry’s veins. 

Severus fell to the other side of the bed, panting as Harry scooted closer to him. 

“Can I spend the night?” Harry murmured. Severus paused, before turning to face Harry. 

Severus sighed. “I suppose,” he grunted. 

“Want to shower together next time?”

Severus fixed him with a nasty glare. Harry shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just think it would be fun.” 

Severus grunted and turned over on his side again. “Perhaps,” he answered. “But right now I just want to relax. A certain brat has worn me out for a bit.”

Harry cuddled under the blankets, grinning like a fool.

He wasn’t a virgin anymore. _Definitely_ not a virgin anymore. 

And even better…

He wasn’t alone.


	9. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! I'm going to try and update more regularly now that I FINALLY have a new computer and I'm out of my writing slump. I said 15 chapters, but I'm just going with the flow with this fic, so we'll see how long it goes on for (not too much longer, but I have plans for our boys, and I hope you like what I have.) On that note, please enjoy. Much love--Ragwort

Harry mumbled incoherently around a mouthful of something soft. He blinked slowly; the room was dark, and there was someone sleeping next to him. 

Oh. Snape. That would be Snape next to him. Naked. 

Snape naked. In bed. With Harry. 

Harry felt like he’d won the World Cup, and spat out whatever it was that was in his mouth, which was a mouthful of Severus’ hair. Severus mumbled something and buried his face deeper into his own pillow, and Harry fell back on his side. He could barely see the other man, but the moonlight that spilled out onto the blankets illuminated that hawkish nose and sharp features. Harry stared for a bit, which probably was a little creepy, but Severus was asleep so he didn’t feel so awkward. 

Severus looked years younger without his perpetual scowl, his pale face smooth and peaceful as the stars winked their light through the expanse of the window. Severus wasn’t even that old, only his parent’s age, and Harry slid his hand to rest it above Severus’ beating heart, feeling it thud softly beneath his palm. 

What happens now? He found his soulmate, cured his own curse, and...how would this work out? Severus was his teacher, and even when Harry graduated, what would it look like to other people when they became a couple...if Severus even wanted a relationship? 

Harry drew in a sharp breath through his nose and turned to his other side, facing the window. He could worry about that another day. 

The moon surrendered to the beginnings of dawn, the reddish pink glow rising as Severus shifted and mumbled into his pillow. Harry grinned. He could wake Severus up in a pleasant way, and since it was the weekend...he didn’t have any other plans. No classes, no detentions…

Harry pulled the blankets down, his fingers catching over the telltale tent that strained against the cloth. Severus whimpered in his sleep and tossed his head back on the pillow as Harry bent down on his hands and knees to face his erection. The heady musk was like an aphrodisiac, and Harry grasped the base before flicking his tongue over the tip. He might as well get some practice in. 

A soft moan rose as Harry nuzzled deeper, wrapping his tongue around the head before engulfing the tip in his mouth. Severus jerked suddenly and fell back with a sigh as Harry slowly moved up and down, making sure to swirl his tongue in all of the appropriate places. He pulled back to admire his work; Severus’ cock was heavy and shining with spit, an angry reddish glow throbbing across the thick length as Harry stroked his fingers over the glans. A dew droplet of precome dribbled down, and Harry bent down to lick it. Urgh. A bit bitter, and would take some getting used to, but the taste roused some deviant and naughty part of Harry that wanted to taste all that Severus had to offer him. Which might not take long, as his erection was swiftly getting thicker, his balls taut and heavy. Harry cupped and rolled them, feeling the soft, crinkled skin firm against his palms. 

Severus was gripping the sheets now, but he still seemed to be very much asleep. Harry supposed that the weekend would be the only time Severus could sleep in, and Harry dragged his tongue down the length of his cock before mouthing the head again and sucking the cock in. He wondered how deep he could take him…

Severus’ hips jerked and his cock brushed the back of Harry’s throat. Harry pulled back with a gag. Not that far yet, then. Still, Harry had a mission. He sped up his pace, gripping the base of Severus’ cock and moving it in time with his sucking. Soon, more salt-spill gushed down from the slit, slicking Harry’s mouth and hand, and Severus arched with a low groan before he started to spurt in Harry’s mouth.

Harry closed his eyes and swallowed as much as he could. It was...he tasted himself on more than one occasion, and while the taste was similar, Severus’ was deeper and more rich, somehow, all salt and musk and wet…

Severus was still coming, and Harry wasn’t releasing him just yet. Only when the tremors subsided and Severus began to flinch away from Harry’s mouth did Harry back away, letting the head slip from his mouth with a resounding pop. 

He still wasn’t awake. Harry felt a strong sense of accomplishment. He must have really worn Snape out last night. He settled back in bed, laying on top of the covers. His body was flushed, and his own cock was standing at attention, demanding to be noticed. Harry shoved his hand down and jerked frantically, and he almost embarrassed himself by how fast it took him to reach the pinnacle of orgasm. His release hit him as hard as if he’d been knocked from his broomstick two hundred feet in the air, and Harry turned and gasped into Severus’ neck as he pumped his release into the folds of the sheets. They’d clean it up later.

* * *

“What are you still doing here?” 

Harry roused from the bed, stretching with a yawn. He’d fallen back asleep after servicing both of them that morning, and Harry wondered if Severus remembered any of it. 

“And the bedsheets were quite...sticky when I woke up,” Severus grumbled. Harry grinned. 

“You didn’t seem to mind at the time,” Harry answered cheekily, and Severus grunted, reaching for a mug of coffee. _So he DOES prefer coffee! Does he take it with sugar?_ He glanced in the mug, it was as black as tar. Ick. 

“I don’t know where we are to go from this point,” Severus admitted. “If that book is what you say it is...and it’s not cursed, that much is obvious…” 

“I’m telling you, it’s right,” Harry said. “How else can all of this be explained? Horny teenage males sniffing around my heels? That book responding to you--and only you, by the way…” 

“Yes, but--”

“Please,” Harry said softly. “Give it a chance. Please?”

Severus said nothing, but took a steaming sip of coffee instead. With a long winded sigh, he glanced at Harry. “You’re still my student. And surely your friends would not approve. And I do not intend on being featured on the front page of the Prophet, toted as Harry Potter’s newest exploit.”

“I’ve never had any exploits anyway,” Harry shot back. “And we can keep it secret. My friends wouldn’t mind anyhow.” 

“Hmph,” Severus grunted. “Speaking of friends, shouldn’t you go back to them now? I’m hardly genial company.” 

“I’ll say,” Harry snorted. “If you want me gone that badly, I’ll leave.”

Severus snapped his eyes to meet Harry’s gaze. “I have potions to brew. My work doesn’t end on the weekend.” 

“I can help!” Harry said eagerly. Severus shook his head.

“Perhaps next week,” Severus answered, his tone mild, and Harry could nearly see the shields snap around Severus as he turned from Harry and set his mug down on the nearby table. 

“Fine,” Harry said. “That’s all right. But I’ll be back.” 

Severus jerked his head in a slight nod before Harry left the room.

* * *

“Well?”

Harry’s face heated in a flush that was so red it’d make Godric Gryffindor proud. Hermione and Neville sat in front of him in the Common Room, eagerly awaiting his next words. Harry cleared his throat. 

“Well, Hermione, there’s some things you don’t know about this whole situation...and, well, I’m sorry for not telling you right away but things were bloody well awful…” 

“The book,” Hermione started, and Harry’s eyes widened. “Neville told me last night.” 

Harry couldn’t fault Neville for that, especially since he was pretty sure Hermione talked to Neville about her suspicions concerning Harry and Snape. “Y-yeah.” 

“It’s all sorted out now,” Hermione said, and patted Harry’s shoulder. 

“Snape and Harry...a Dementor and a baby Niffler are a more likely pair,” Neville snorted, and Harry shot him a glare. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermione mused. “They’re both passionate, and...well, Harry, it seems that you two have more in common than you realize, with your pasts....from what you saw in his memories...and he’s brave, you know...he protected you all of your life, that has to count for something…” 

“Yeah, for Mum,” Harry mumbled. But Snape was most definitely gay, so...what Severus had said before, the little clues he dropped when Harry was first bewitched...maybe Severus did harbor some sort of feeling toward Harry. 

“I just don’t know what to do,” Harry moaned, dropping his face in his hands. “What if he doesn’t want me?” Well, if last night (and this morning) was anything to go by, Severus did want Harry, but...there were so many things holding them back. Maybe after Harry graduated things would get simpler. 

“Don’t sweat it mate,” Neville said, swinging his arm around Harry. “It’ll all come together. School’s almost out anyway. Still wanting to be an Auror? Oi, how’s Ron doing, ‘Mione?”

“He loves his work,” Hermione said, gushing a bit. “He’s doing so well. At first...well, this may sound horrible, but I wasn’t sure how well he’d adapt.”

“Good to hear,” Neville said. “Harry?”

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbled. He didn’t know about a lot of things, now. Being an Auror didn’t hold the same allure as it did once before. "I have time to think about it.” 

“Not much time,” Hermione noted. “We’ve only a month left of classes. Then exams…speaking of! I have to study…” She pulled out a massive textbook and flipped it open. “I suggest you two do the same.” 

“Yeah, all right,” Neville waved. “Sprout’s already granted me an apprenticeship in Herbology.” 

A glimmer of an idea sparked in Harry’s teeming brain. An apprenticeship…

No way. Harry was rubbish at Potions, and the only class he would be able to teach would be Quidditch or Defense. And Hooch and Melton weren’t leaving anytime soon....

* * *

“Students, as it is nearing the end of our year together, I have a few announcements before exams start,” McGonagall said, as Harry glanced discreetly at the staff table, hoping to catch Snape’s eye. But Snape seemed intently focused on not paying Harry any attention, and Harry fumed silently before gazing at McGonagall once more. 

“We have a staff member leaving us at the end of classes. Professor Melton, if you will?” 

Melton lifted herself from her chair gracefully, and Harry noticed that Severus didn’t so much as glance up from his mug as she swept to the podium. 

“It has been such a remarkable experience to work with you all,” she smiled brightly, as some of the male students faces fell (and a few female ones too, Harry noted, as Daphne Greengrass looked as dismayed as Seamus Finnegan at the news.) “I learned so much from all of you, and I know you’ll all go far.” It was a generic speech, and Harry wasn’t all that impressed, and he’d much rather stare at Severus sulking into his mug for hours than listen to another word this harpy had to spew. “Thank you for welcoming me here, and with that, I must bid you adieu.” 

Scattered claps sounded in the Great Hall. Maybe not everyone forgot how nasty Melton got when the charm bewitched the men of the school. 

Suddenly a revelation struck Harry like a bag of bricks to the back of his skull. Melton was leaving. Melton taught Defense. Harry was good at Defense, and if he managed to snag this teaching position…

Harry shoved down his food and gulped his pumpkin juice. He’d talk to McGonagall. Actually, he’d talk to her as soon as dinner was finished.

* * *

“Professor?”

“Mister Potter!” McGonagall said, smoothing down her ruffled robes. “What can I do for you?”

“I...well, that is...I--”

McGonagall said nothing, but Harry could hear her foot tap, and the words rushed out of him before he could formulate a proper, coherent sentence. 

“Iwantthejob.” 

McGonagall’s brows flew up. “Pardon me, Potter. I didn’t quite catch that.” 

“I. Want. The job,” Harry said through clenched teeth. He wanted it so badly he could already taste it. 

If anything, McGonagall’s face grew tighter and washed over with a wave of shock. “But...Potter, I thought...Auror....the Ministry…”

“Things change,” Harry said, “and I don’t want to be an Auror. I’d rather do this. And I have experience! Dumbledore’s Army?”

McGonagall cleared her throat. “Well...I must admit you’re more than qualified. But you have to pass all of your exams...yes, Harry, Potions too...and there will have to be an interview…” 

“I’ll do it,” Harry said eagerly.

McGonagall peered at Harry for a long moment before shaking her head. “I don’t know why the change of heart, Mister Potter. But you seem to know what’s for the best. And...”

She turned, and glanced back at him one more time. 

“One could never call you predictable.”

* * *

“What. Is the meaning. Of this.” 

Harry cringed and shrunk back into himself a little. Severus didn’t seem all that happy. 

“Giving up your dreams of being an Auror, for...for what, exactly?”

“I decided I’d rather stay here,” Harry replied. “Hogwarts has been my home, I already know how to do all of this, and if _you_ can teach, well, then anyone could, really…”

“Are you mocking me?” Severus hissed. “Is this some sort of way to keep us together? Because, Potter--”

“No!” Harry lied, well--it was partially true, but...the more that he thought on it, the more right it felt. He’d be a good teacher, he had been before, and he could do it again. 

“I just want to,” Harry muttered. “And I can make my own decisions. Everyone’s always expected me to be some Auror hero, you know...I don’t want to be a hero anymore. I want to live my life how I want to. And...I want to be with you.” 

Severus’ nostrils flared, and he turned from Harry, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can’t stop you,” he said. “If this is what you want…” 

“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice full of purpose. “It’s what I want.” He stepped closer to Severus and patted his arm. He felt muscles relax underneath his fingertips, and Harry bit back a crow of triumph. He rubbed a small circle with his thumb in the crook of Severus’ arm, and Severus sighed. 

“It may work out,” Severus admitted. “But I don’t want…” 

“No one has to know,” Harry murmured, clenching his fingers into the hard expanse of muscle. “Just us. And well…”

Severus turned to fix a poisonous glare at Harry. “And well, what?”

“Neville and Hermione know,” Harry blurted out. “But they won’t say anything, and it’s not like it’s anything bad…” 

“Wonderful,” Severus groaned, rubbing two fingers over his brow. “My personal life is now subject to perusal by an insufferable know-it-all and a bumbling moron.”

“Hey,” Harry growled. “No need to be a git.” He reached up to lower Severus’ hand and leaned up to grasp his shoulders. “It will all work out in the end.” 

He opened his lips against Severus’, who sighed in his open mouth before his tongue surged to meet Harry’s. Harry closed his eyes. He’d get the Defense job, he wouldn’t have to leave Hogwarts…

And he found someone. Someone awful and nasty and mean, and sexy and smart and snarky...and brave. Who would have thought? Harry let Severus swallow his chuckle as he wrapped his fingers through his greasy hair. 

He could be...happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not Tumblr savvy at all, but I'm loony-phantomhive, if you want to stop by and chat (I've never really done that on my blog, I usually just share random things on there.) Thanks for following this story!


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